Al Capone and Duncan Malone
by katie4cheer
Summary: Courtney, a stuck-up rich girl, finds herself in the middle of a shootout between rival gangs. Duncan, a nephew of Al Capone, saves her life. Courtney has to ask herself this: Will she turn in the bad-boy gangster to the cops, or end up falling in love?
1. Recognize Me?

Courtney Pembrooke was walking along the cracked sidewalks of downtown Chicago. It was 1924, and her long sky-blue dress was swishing around her ankles with each step she took. Her matching blue high-heels were click-clacking on the sidewalk, and her straight brown hair frantically swished across her tanned face in the chilly wind of the Windy City. The sky was gray, as a storm was blowing in. Smooth paper rubs in Courtney's bra, the only safe place where she keeps her money.

Courtney was headed to the street corners of Michigan Avenue and Randolph Street. The salty air from Lake Michigan nipped at her bare arms. A shiver ran up her spine. As Courtney neared the fruit stand, she pulled out a crisp dollar bill from her ample cleavage. The fruit stands downtown seemed to have better apples than in the city. Courtney had to walk all the way here from her home, which was a penthouse in one of the richest apartment buildings on Chicago, because her father was currently on a business trip to Wall Street and he had taken the Ford Model-T with him.

Courtney handed the dollar bill over to Frank Gardetta, a poor fruit-stand salesman. "Nice day today, isn't it, Miss Pembrooke?" Frank asked her, pocketing the dollar bill and placing only the finest apples in a rucksack for his best customer.

"Nice day? I should think not. I despise this chilly weather," Courtney replies. Another gust of wind comes, ruffling her hair and making goosebumps pop up on her arms.

"Well, you should have worn that nice white fur coat you wore last winter. Today seems like an appropriate day to have worn it," Frank tells her, tying a loose knot on the bag and handing it to Courtney.

She takes the rough hemp bag and converses, "Nonsense. That fur coat is much too old. Daddy will buy me a new one once he gets back from Wall Street."

"You are very fortunate, Miss Pembrooke. May I hope to see you again next week for more apples?"

"Most definitely," Courtney answers, taking a step backwards, "Have a nice day, Mister Gardetta." She turns and retreats down the sidewalk, back the way she came.

"You too, Miss Pembrooke!" Frank calls after her. Courtney smiles to herself, making a steady beat with the clicking of her high heels. Frank was a nice teenager. He was cute, with floppy brown hair, warm chocolate eyes, a bright white smile, and an amazing personality. But he lived in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Chicago, and Daddy would never approve. Neither would Mother, even though she was much more understanding than Courtney's father.

Courtney waits at the edge of the sidewalk, near an intersection. Barely any cars were driving around; not many people in downtown Chicago could afford them. At a red light, the few cars stop, and Courtney takes her time in crossing the cobblestone road. It would be terrible to break a heel on her new shoes.

Suddenly, gunshots ring out through the crisp fall air. Courtney screams, drops the apples, squeezes her eyes shut, and clamps her hands over her ears. After the rapid gunfire was ceased, she peeks her eyes open and puts her hands back to her sides. She was still frozen in the middle of the street, but the cars were frozen in shock, too, even though the light had long since turned green. Squealing tires are heard from behind Courtney. She turns around, and sees a car resembling one of those illegal racecars zooming straight towards her.

Courtney raises her hands to her face and lets out another high-pitched scream. Before she can even react, Courtney is tackled out of the middle of the narrow road and onto the hard sidewalk. The back of her head slams into the hard concrete and a soft gasp escapes her lips from the pain. Spots swim in front of her eyes, but she still manages to watch the scene playing out before her.

A very handsome teenager was straddling her, with his knees on either side of her hips. He was obviously poor; he wore black dress-pants, but they were filthy and full of holes. His shirt was white cotton, surprisingly clean compared to his pants, and the long sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing tan forearms. The shirt was taunt against his chest, from his muscular body. A few white buttons were unbuttoned at the collar, and a black tie dangled loosely from around his neck. His jaw-line was sharp. His hair was pitch-black, and had the perfect flip to it, just barely keeping his shiny, thick hair out of his eyes.

He wasn't looking at her, however. His arm was straight out, pointing at the retreating car. A small, shiny, black pistol was in his hand. He shot three shots, within regular intervals, at the car. Even though the gun was extremely powerful, the teen was clearly stronger, because his arm hardly shook at the recoil. His other hand was at his side, curled into a fist as he concentrated on aiming.

Eventually, the car was too far away to see, much less shoot at. The teen slipped his pistol into an empty belt loop and stood up, freeing Courtney. He offered a hand, and Courtney, always being polite, took it. Once Courtney was on her feet, though, her vision became fuzzy and her head was filled with light-headedness. She stumbled, and she felt the young man's hand low on her back, steadying her. Once her vision finally cleared, Courtney finally stepped away from him.

The streets were clear of cars. Nobody had stayed to watch the shoot-out, and all the dirty windows of the tenement buildings had been firmly closed. Front doors had been shut and locked, and all pedestrians had retreated indoors. Abandoned apples were strewn across the road. It seemed that Courtney and the mysterious teenager who had just saved her life were the only ones on the face of the earth.

"Well," Courtney says shakily, not knowing where to begin. She smoothes the wrinkles on her blue dress and takes another step away from the teen. "I thank you profusely for saving my life. Had I any money on me, I would pay you for your efforts. However, I must be going. My mother is expecting me," Courtney tells him. "So, good day to you, Sir." She turns around and starts walking away from him.

Before Courtney could barely make it three feet away, the young man had already grabbed strong hold of her thin wrist. "I'm sorry, but I can't let ya do that," he says, spinning her around. Facing him, Courtney was struck by his eyes.

They were a bright, bright blue. Actually, his eyes had a bit of green to them. With the blue and the green combined, that made his eyes look more over-all teal, or maybe a dark aqua. His eyes made her knees weak, and they made it seem as if her was looking right inside of her. Not through her, like he was ignoring her, but like he was intensely studying her, as if he was trying to read her mind or find out how she was going to respond.

Courtney opened her mouth to say something, but his eyes just mesmerized her. She blinks three times, rapidly, and finally sputters, "What?"

"You've seen too much. I'm sorry, but you can't go home. For now, anyway," he replies. Courtney lusted to hear him say more. His voice was velvety and warm, despite the fact he was telling her she couldn't go home, which was absolutely ridiculous.

"Wha-- why? This is absurd!" Courtney exclaims, shocked.

"I told you, already. You saw to much. Now come with me," he says. He keeps eye contact with her for just one moment longer than he had to, before pulling her with him down the sidewalk. Courtney was speechless. Except, not really. She had loads to say.

"What the heck are you _talking_ about? I _saw_ to much? What the heck does that even _mean_? Why are you--"

Courtney stops in her tracks, mouth and eyes wide open. This time, she really was speechless. The young man, who still had a hold of her wrist, turned around to see what was keeping her. "What?" he asks, not out of curiosity, but out of impatiency.

Courtney blinked twice. Her pink lips opened and closed, looking for the right words to describe the epiphany that just came to her. "Oh. My. Goodness," she breathed.

"What?" he asks again, even more patient than before. Time was wasting. The cops would come soon, if they didn't get out of here.

"You… Your one of those gangsters my Daddy told me about!" Courtney exclaims. He rolls his eyes.

"Seriously, I would have thought you would have figured that out by now," the man replies. He lets go of Courtney's wrist, not afraid of having her run off, because she was frozen to the spot in shock. With both hands, he touches his broad chest and holds his hands out. "I'm Duncan Malone, notorious gangster-slash-bootlegger of Chicago. My accomplices smuggle barrels of liquor under frozen rivers from somewhere in Canada to Detroit. Then they transfer the liquor from Detroit to here in Chicago, where I then ship illegal booze and moonshine to various speakeasies around the country, namely to St. Louis and various western cities. Recognize me?"

Courtney's eyes widened, and she began screaming. Duncan lunged for her, clamping her mouth shut with his hand. His other hand, on her lower back, held her close so she couldn't pull away and continue attracting attention. She struggled, kicking and mumbling profanities into Duncan's palm.

Then, simultaneously, she bit down on the skin of his open palm and kicked him in the crotch. "Dammit!" Duncan shouted, going down. Courtney scrambled away, sprinting as fast as her high heels could take her. She glanced behind her, and let out a giddy sigh as she saw that she was not being pursued.

Courtney turns her gaze back to the direction she was running. She gasps as Duncan sprints out of an alley-way right in front of her, and she crashes into his chest. His arms immediately wrap around her, confining her to a very tight space. Courtney feels a cold item press into the middle of her back. Her eyes fill with tears, thinking it was over for her.

"Don't think I won't shoot, because I will. I've shot to death dozens of guys in my life before, and don't you go thinkin' for a _second _I won't shoot a girl. So you better fucking keep your big mouth _shut_, and I'll let you live. Understand?" Duncan threatens right in her ear.

Courtney sniffs away her tears and nods, since her mouth was buried in Duncan's chest, so she couldn't talk. "Glad we understand each other," he says, slipping the gun back in his belt loop. He swiftly picks Courtney up by the waist and places her on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Duncan starts walking down the sidewalk.

"Put me down! I can _walk_, you know!" Courtney protests, not daring to raise her voice in case of being shot.

"Yeah, whatever. You'll just run away if I set you down," Duncan tells her, even though he knew she'd do nothing of the sort after he'd threatened her like that.

"But all of downtown Chicago will be able to see up my dress!" Courtney exclaims.

"Thanks for reminding me. I'll have to check out the view sometime," he responds.

"Ugh! You are such a pervert!" Courtney scolds, pounding on his back with her tiny fists.

"Ohh, that really hurts me, Princess," Duncan says sarcastically as he walks down a dim alley.

"_What_ did you call me?" Courtney demands.

"A princess."

"I am not a princess!"

"Oh, sure. Have you _seen _what you're wearing?"

**

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(Author's Note: This is a bit long, but I wanted you guys to get a taste of this story. I am currently in love with this idea for a story. I got the idea for it in history class when we were learning about the 1920's. When we learned about the gangsters, I was like 'Duncan!' Lol. I'm so obsessed.)


	2. Log Cabin

Courtney had given up on trying to keep track of where Duncan was carrying her. After heading through a series of alleys and open areas behind tenement buildings full of trash and rats, they were in some neighborhood of downtown Chicago that was even more poor than the one that Frank lived in. Besides that, Courtney was completely lost. She couldn't run away now, at all. If she tried, she'd get lost and maybe end up getting raped by some dirt-poor man who was divorced. Courtney silenced a gasp with her palm. _Was Duncan going to rape her?_

_Well he _**is** _really hot…_

Courtney slapped herself to be sure she wasn't going crazy. _Her_? Liking _Duncan_? As if. She must be showing some early signs of Stockholm syndrome, where kidnap victims starts to sympathize with their captors.

Duncan stops halfway through the dark alley. There was a rusty-orange fire escape above Courtney's head. As in, way above her head. As in, she couldn't reach it. "Climb," Duncan orders.

"How?" Courtney asks.

"Stand on my shoulders and climb up," he commands her. Courtney turns her head to give him a look saying that he was crazy, but of course all she saw was the back of his head.

"Are you serious?" Courtney asks him.

"Need I show you how serious?" Duncan replies threateningly, his hand reaching for his gun. Courtney lets out a soft whimper and grabs hold of the cold brick wall. Duncan holds her feet to his shoulders as she slowly moves from a crouch to a kneel to a full stance. Courtney grabs the bottom rung of the ladder and dangles there. "Are you going to get climbing, or are you just going to hang there?" Duncan demands.

"I have absolutely no upper-body strength, if you must know," she informs him. Duncan sighs impatiently and rolls his eyes.

"Just pull yourself up. It's not that hard," he tells her. After two or three minutes of grunting, kicking, and straining, Courtney managed to make it to the second rung. From there, she climbed up just like a normal ladder. She stands on the landing of the fire escape and tried to pick the chips of rust off her stinging hands.

Duncan, meanwhile, climbs onto the lid of a dumpster. He leaps and grabs hold of the bottom rung of the fire escape and swings back and forth. Once the swinging is under control, he swiftly climbs up the ladder. He meets Courtney on the landing of the fire escape and winks at her.

"Told'ja I'd get a chance to look up your dress," Duncan teases her, a smirk dancing across his lips. Courtney's jaw drops open, and a pink blush lights up on her cheeks. She immediately slaps Duncan across the face, and his head snaps sideways.

Duncan slowly rubs his jaw with one hand, yet the bleach-white smirk was still plastered on his tan face. "I guess I kinda deserved that," he says with a low chuckle. "But dang, girl, you have a _really_ nice ass."

Courtney lifted a hand to slap him again, but Duncan had sprinted up one flight of stairs already. Pink-faced and embarrassed beyond belief, Courtney grabbed handfuls of sky-blue fabric and slightly lifted her dress so she could climb up the stairs without tripping over it. They climb up ten flights of stairs. By the time they were at the ninth floor, the old fire escape was beginning to creak and groan with every step.

Duncan hopped onto the concrete roof and held a hand out to Courtney. Indignantly, she ignored his offer of help, and she click-clacked across the concrete roof of the apartment building. "Ooh, the silent treatment, Princess?" Duncan asks. She pointedly crosses her arms and refuses to make eye contact with him. "Fine. If that's how it'll be."

Duncan raps several knocks on the solid oak door in the center of the roof, like a secret knock. The door swings open, revealing a dim staircase and another teenage guy wearing the same dress pants as Duncan, but he was wearing a tight white T-shirt and no tie. "What's up, Damien?" Duncan greets the green-eyed, blonde boy and bumping fists.

"Nuthin' much, boss," Damien replies, grinning a pure white smile. "But who's she?"

Courtney glares at Damien for no apparent reason. "This is our temporary captive. She saw who was in the car," Duncan answers. Courtney furrows her eyebrows.

"The car that almost ran me over?"

"Exactly." Duncan leads Courtney down the staircase, which was lit by just one bare lightbulb. Dust was floating around in the air, visible by the beams of light shining down. Duncan walked through the wooden door at the end of the staircase. He shut the door after Courtney.

They were in a huge room, with crates marked "Log Cabin". Courtney knew about Log Cabin. It was what rumrunners and bootleggers were labeling illegal cases of whiskey, scotch, and other liquors before selling them to speakeasies. Around five other teenagers were gradually waltzing around the room, marking the inventory on clipboards. It seemed like more and more crates were being carried into the room, through another door. Lightbulbs hung, bare, from the rafters littered with cobwebs. The windows were either boarded up with wood or had thick quilts nailed to them so the police couldn't see in. Duncan led Courtney through the door where more inventory was being brought in, down another flight of stairs, and into another room.

This room was full of empty glass bottles, corks, empty crates, barrels of whiskey, and stickers. Courtney observed one of the Log Cabin bottles being made. A sticker that said "Log Cabin" was places onto the bottle. Then, whiskey was poured from the barrels into the bottles. A cork was screwed onto the bottle, and then the bottles were packed into empty crates. The windows in this room were blocked off, too.

The next floor was just a long hallway. On either side of the hallways were doors with labels on them. Most of the labels said "Bunks of ____, ____, ____, and ____" and a couple labels said "Bathroom".

The next floor down was a huge living room and kitchen area. The living room had a huge radio, multiple couches, a phonograph player, and bookshelves of records. There was no carpet, but there were many ratty rugs lined up together to try to cover the hardwood floor. Coffee tables at the center of the circle of couches were littered with overflowing ashtrays and picked-over newspapers. The kitchen was stocked. The cabinets were almost as full as Courtney's pantry back home, but that wasn't much considering how many accomplices Duncan had to feed compared to Courtney's house, of which only her mom, dad, and herself lived there. The refrigerator was full of every kind of alcohol imaginable, and then some.

The next four floors down were exactly the same as the tenth floor on the top. Crates were stacked everywhere, and delivery charts were tacked to the walls. The bottom two floors were offices, filled with cubicles. Each cubicle had a radio playing softly, a telephone ringing off the hook, charts and graphs tacked to the walls, manila folders crammed with papers were laying on the desk, and a huge map took up an entire wall. It was a map of the United States, with little bulbs representing major cities such as Los Angeles, St. Louis, NYC, Philadelphia, Houston, etc. Suddenly, the small bulb over Miami begins flashing red.

"Why is it flashing?" Courtney asks Duncan.

"That means a speakeasy in Miami just put in another order for more liquor," he answers her.

Suddenly, police sirens are heard from outside. "Shit," Duncan hisses. He grabs Courtney's hand and starts pulling her towards the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

"Mister Malone, I cannot climb that fast! You will have to slow down, please. I _am_ in high heels, after all," Courtney requests, fumbling with her dress and trying to climb as fast as she can. Duncan spins around, picks her up, places her on his shoulder again, and resumes running up the stairs.

"Well! I sure hope this won't become a regular occurrence," she comments. Multiple other gangsters began filing out of doors and into the stairway, running this way and that. While they run down the stairs and Duncan is running up, the gang members whistle as they see up Courtney's dress. Courtney flips them off with a perfect French tip glistening in the air. They were now on the eighth floor, the one with all the bunk rooms. Duncan opens the door marked "Duncan's Bunk" and dumps Courtney on the bed.

She smoothes her dress, trying to cover up her pink silk underwear. Courtney sits there while Duncan runs to and fro. He's locking the door, covering the window, hiding half-full bottles of whiskey under the bed, and opening a trap door in the floor. He stands on the first step on the staircase leading down into the darkness, and he holds a hand out to Courtney. "Ya coming, Princess?" he asks her.

Courtney climbs off the bed and takes his hand. Really, what were her other options? Duncan carefully leads her down the dim steps, her hand still in his. Courtney could barely see the steps because of the little light, but when Duncan closes the trap door, the light goes from little to none. Then Duncan flips a lightswitch, and a cracked lightbulb flickers on.

"Why do you have to hide like this?" Courtney asks as they walk down the remainder of the stairs. They were in a small crawl-space type area. The walls were big stones cemented together, and the floor was just packed dirt.

"I hafta hide whenever I hear the police. My accomplices don't care, since the maximum amount of time they'd get in jail would be just a year or two. But me? I'd get at least ten years," Duncan explains, "And once I'm gone, the whole system will crash… probably."

Suddenly, Courtney screams. She spazzes out, slapping at the waist of her dress. Courtney hops around until she finally runs into Duncan's chest, where she stands there, whimpering. Not knowing what just happened or how to respond, Duncan just places a hand on her back. "Uh… what was that?" he asks, nervous of the answer.

"Spuh... Spider," Courtney stutters. She was still shaking a little, and Duncan could feel her heartbeat pounding.

"Well, you probably killed it with all your dancing around," Duncan tells her. She glares at him, but doesn't move from his side. Duncan chuckles and sits down. "You should probably sit, too, if you want to get any sleep. We'll probably be here a while," he says when he sees her still standing.

Courtney huffs and crosses her arms. "I can not sit on a _dirt floor_! It'll get my dress dirty," she responds. Duncan pats his lap, and Courtney's eyes widen. "I can't go to sleep laying on _you_! Who knows what you'll do to me? After all, you're a _criminal_."

"Fine, then, Princess. Have fun _standing _there all night."

For the next ten minutes, Courtney stood there. She was fighting yawns, and her eyes were getting rather droopy. Not to mention that her high heels were _killing_ her. She bent down, took off her high heels, and gently placed them against the wall. Courtney took a deep breath, and looked at Duncan.

He was slouched against the wall, arms at his sides. His head was lolled, and his gorgeous eyes were closed. _Wait… gorgeous_?? _Nevermind that, Courtney, just sit in his lap. Just…sit. It's nothing, really. It doesn't mean anything at all. Besides, you have to sleep _**some**_time! _Courtney gently lowers herself into Duncan's lap, and she leans against his firm chest. A minute later, her eyes couldn't stay open any longer, and her breathing became even.

Duncan smirks in his sleep.

**

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(Author's Note: Heehee. Courtney is so insecure. Anyway, thank you all so much for all your comments! I love hearing what you guys think. Also, don't be afraid to tell me what I can improve on! Just don't make it too critical, telling me my work is shit or whatever. And I would be more than happy to read any of your own stories, review them, etc. I think I spend way too much time writing and not enough reading. So… yeah. Adios!)


	3. Rolls Royce

Courtney's thick eyelashes fluttered open, and she nearly screamed when she saw Duncan's face merely an inch away from hers. She gasped and rolled of Duncan's torso, then scrambled to her feet.

"Well, good morning to you too, Princess," Duncan says, "You know, your rude awakening really hurt me. It hurt right here." He grasps the left side of his chest and calmly stands up.

Courtney's jaw was hanging open, staring at him in disbelief. But then she regains her composure, smacks him on the shoulder, and glares at him. "What did I do this time?!" Duncan demands. Instead of answering, Courtney just crosses her arms.

Duncan rolls his eyes and leads her back up the stairs. He flicks the lightswitch off, and shuts the trap door behind them. "Hungry, darling?" Duncan asks, walking out of his bedroom and walking down the main staircase. Courtney opens her mouth to reply, but her stomach let out a huge growl. She slaps her hands onto her stomach, trying to cover up the noise, and her cheeks blush a dim pink. Duncan chuckles. "Well I guess that answers that."

They walk past the living room and into the kitchen. Duncan opens the fridge and bends over, inspecting the contents. His black hair falls into his teal eyes, and he flips his hair back into place with a swift flick of his head. "Alright, do you want? We have some vodka, whiskey, rum, brandy, gin, ale, bourbon, and scotch," Duncan rattles off, grabbing some vodka for himself.

"Alcohol? For breakfast?" Courtney gasps.

"Um, yeah. We kinda smuggle liquor for a living, so we drink it pretty much all the time."

"Well, do you have any water?"

"Unless you take a glass and fill it with the water from the shower, then no."

"Um, okay, what about some Coke?" Courtney asks. Surely gangsters would have a bit of soda-pop around.

"Whoa, _you're_ a morning person! We usually sniff cocaine more around evening, or late afternoon at the earliest. But if you're up for it…" Duncan replies, shutting the fridge door and scratching at his five-o'clock shadow. The gray stubble snaked from right in front of his ears, down to his chin, and back up to the other ear.

"No!" Courtney exclaims, stomping her foot. Several shot glasses clink together on a shelf on the dusty wall. "I am _not_ talking about _cocaine_! I am talking about Coca-Cola! Don't you even have something for a girl to drink? Something that won't get me drunk first thing after I wake up?!"

"You expect _us_ to drink soda-pop?" Duncan asks. He starts laughing so hard that he has to hold on the wall to keep from falling over. Courtney just stands there with her hands on her hips, taking it all. Finally, Duncan composes himself, "Don't you think soda-pop is a bit childish?"

Courtney glares at him. Afraid of being slapped again, Duncan breaks down. "Fine. How about some wine?" he offers, pulling a large bottle of red wine from a wine rack.

"That's more like it," Courtney says as Duncan pours the blood-red liquid into a tall glass with the thinnest stem Courtney has ever seen. She gently picks it up and takes a seat in a stool at the bar counter, which completely wrapped around the kitchen. Suddenly, the grandfather clock in the corner struck seven a.m. Barely a few minutes later, dozens of gangsters flooded into the living room and kitchen.

They started bumping fists, making eye contact, and nudging each other's ribs once they saw Courtney. "Hey, babe, what's your name?" a brown-haired guy asked her. He was leaning against the bar, right next to Courtney.

"My name is Courtney Pembrooke," she replies, keeping a straight face. Courtney lifted the glass of wine to her lips and took a dainty sip. The tart taste of fermented grape juice swam across her taste buds and dove down her throat.

"Well, Courtney Pembrooke, what does your daddy do for a living?" asks a different guy. They were surrounding her now, like she was a new attraction in the county fair. "Wait, wait, wait. Let me guess: he buys and sells stocks on Wall Street?"

"Actually, yes, he does indeed."

"And what do _you_ do for a living? Apart from being sexy, that is," a guy behind her asks. Courtney doesn't even bother to turn around to look at him. Somebody that crude doesn't even deserve to make eye contact when spoken to.

"I do not have a job," Courtney tells them, straining to not spin around and slap them silly. _I bet _**that **_would teach them some manners_, she thinks.

"Are you a parking ticket?"

"What?" Courtney asks.

"Because you've got fine written all over you."

Courtney nodded. _Now_ she understood what they were doing. They were all just practicing their pick-up lines on her. Like _that_ would make her like them. But she wouldn't like a criminal like them, anyway. Not in her life.

"Damn, if being sexy was a crime, you'd be guilty as charged."

"Hey, I lost my phone number. Can I have yours?"

"I lost my teddy bear, will _you_ sleep with me?"

"If you were words on a page, then you'd be what they call fine print."

"If I told you that you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"

Courtney hops out of her bar stool with her now-empty glass of wine. The pick-up lines just kept coming. Courtney weaves through the ever-growing crowd of gangsters and places her empty glass in the sink, in the pile of dirty dishes. Duncan slides easily through the crowd and grabs Courtney's hand. He pulls her towards the stairway, leaving behind his friends.

"Sorry about them. They can act like assholes sometime," Duncan tells her as he leads her into his room. He shuts the door, and Courtney sits down on his bed. Courtney nods in agreement. Duncan digs through his dresser for a white shirt similar to his, and a black tie. He tosses these onto the bed right next to Courtney.

She rubs the fabric between two fingers. "What do I need with these?" she asks as Duncan tosses a short black skirt on the bed. "And why do you have a skirt?"

Duncan chuckles at her last question. "You need to put those on, since I'm bringing you rum-running. And I have a black skirt since I kinda had to dress up as a girl one time," he tells her.

"You? Dressed up as a _girl_?" Courtney starts laughing.

"Hey, I got away with it," Duncan smirks. "Now you better hurry up and get dressed, since I'm coming back in three minutes, whether you're still in your bra and panties or not." Duncan shuts the bedroom door and Courtney immediately gets to changing.

She slips the blue dress over her head, and she takes of her knee-high tights. She leaves on her white tank top that was underneath her dress, because Duncan's white shirt looks pretty thin. Courtney slips the white, cotton, long-sleeve shirt on and slowly starts buttoning it up. Then she slides the tie around her neck and she wrinkles her nose. _I'm not a _**guy**_. Why do I have to wear a tie, like the rest of them?_ She leaves the tie a bit loose, due to her dissatisfaction. Then Courtney bends down to reach the skirt off the floor. But right as her fingertips touched the fabric, she heard the doorknob jiggle. Afraid of being seen in her underwear, Courtney just pulls the skirt on.

Duncan strides into the room, hoping to have seen her in her bra and panties. Instead, what was standing right in front of him seemed to be the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen. She wasn't pretty like a flapper-slash-prostitute, but she was pretty like she wasn't even trying. The black skirt only went down half her thigh, midway between her butt and her knees. The white shirt didn't reach all the way down to the top of the black skirt, since Duncan had given her a shirt that shrunk in the wash -- he thought it might fit her better than any of his big shirts. Between the top of the skirt and the hem of the white shirt, a strip of tan stomach was peeking out. The white shirt was tight over her torso, but not too tight, judging by the few wrinkles. The top few buttons of her shirt was unbuttoned, showing the tiniest bit of cleavage. Duncan doubted Courtney knew it was showing. His favorite black tie was dangling from her neck.

"Hello? Are you just going to stare at me all day, or can we get going?" Courtney asks, crossing her arms and cocking a hip.

"Uh… right. Let's go," Duncan tells her, waking up out of his daze. They go down all the way to the first floor, and Duncan grabs a black fedora off the coat-rack. He spins it in the air and places it over his head. The part of his hair where it flips up sticks out from under the hat. "Guys, me and Princess are going rum-running real quick. We'll should be back in a half hour. If we're not, come with backup," Duncan calls to his comrades.

"Mm-kay," they call back in a monotone. Courtney gulps. _How could they be so 'blah' about this, if backup might be needed? And what the heck is rum-running anyway?_

Duncan leads Courtney down the cement-block steps that led to the front door of the apartment building. She hears a dead-bolt lock behind them. "So… what are we doing?" Courtney asks.

"Rum-running."

"Well, what is rum-running?" she demands, attempting to keep pace with Duncan so that she could look at his face while he answered. The short skirt was making that difficult, however, as she kept having to tug it down so it wouldn't ride up. After all, no way in her life had she ever worn any garment that showed her legs like this. Duncan led them down the sidewalk and into an alley on the side of the building.

"Rum-running is when I deliver liquor to a speakeasy here in Chicago. It's really easy, except you have to out-run the cops. That is, if the cops even show up," Duncan explains as he opens a large wooden gate. Sitting on the cracked pavement was a 1920's Rolls Royce. Courtney's jaw dropped open. Not even her _Daddy _could afford that.

"Wha-- How-- Hmm?" Courtney sputters as Duncan climbs into the driver's seat.

"We spend all our money on cars and liquor," Duncan explains. He reaches over the seat and open's Courtney's door. She climbs in next to him and slams the door shut. Duncan slides the keys into the ignition and the car… it silent.

"Uh, is it not working right?" Courtney asks nervously, glancing over at Duncan.

"Of course it working right. Actually, it's _more_ than right. We tricked it out so that the engine is merely a purr. Take a listen," Duncan tells her, pointing to the dashboard. Courtney hesitates, but slowly lowers her ear to the dashboard. Duncan was right… there was a slight rumbling going on, but it was hardly noticeable until you got within an inch of it.

"Whoa!" Courtney exclaims, pulling back from the dashboard and smiling at Duncan. "That's amazing! How did you do that?"

"I'd tell you, but you'd probably fall asleep. After all, you _are _a girl," Duncan teases. Courtney rolls her eyes. Then Duncan pressed a button, and the roof started to fold back. Courtney grabbed the armrests and squeezed until her knuckles turned white.

"Duncan, stop, you're breaking the car!" she cries.

"Calm down, Princess, it's the first-ever convertible car. Now we can drive around with no roof," he explains. Courtney looks at him like he's crazy.

"Well, what's the purpose of that?" she asks.

"You'll see," Duncan says. He grips the steering wheel, barely taps the gas pedal, and they zoom out of the parking space. Courtney slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream, so as to not attract attention, as Duncan spins the wheel and the tires slide as the car turns. Then he rockets down the street, wind whipping Courtney's hair back. He blasts through a red light, much to Courtney's protesting, and speeds on down the road.

"Dunnn-cannn! Slowww downnn!" Courtney screams, but her voice is lost in the wind.

**

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(Author's Note: Fuck. I got my period, and homecoming is tomorrow! Why must Mother Nature hate me? Ugh. Anyway, just pause for a second. Now picture Duncan in a convertible, high-speed, illegal racecar with a black fedora and Courtney in the seat next to him. *Sigh* Isn't it a wonderful picture? Gah, I'm such a softie.)


	4. Rumrunning

_I'm going to die._

_I'm going to die._

_I'm going to die._

_I'm going to die._

_I'm going to die, _Courtney chants in her head as she clung for bare life to the dashboard. She could hardly lift her head off the headrest of the seat, due to the intense speeds. Duncan spins the wheel and the car screeches to make a turn onto an abandoned side road. He drove down the straight-away for just thirty seconds before he lurched the car to a stop by a run-down store. Courtney's head snapped forward and she yelped. Her head landed back on the headrest and she gave Duncan a look like, _What the hell?_

He smirked at her before turning to face the three men sprinting out of the filthy speakeasy. "Ralph, Gunner, Will! The stuff is in the back trunk," Duncan calls. He presses a button, and the trunk pops open. The three men each grab a barrel, hoist it onto their shoulders, and run it inside. They come back out for two more loads each before the red-head slams the trunk shut. Duncan flicks his hand in the air, like a wave, before zooming off again.

"See, Princess, that wasn't so bad, was it? We're done already," Duncan tells her, looking at her. Courtney stabs a finger at the windshield.

"Keep your _eyes_ on the _road_!" she hisses. Duncan turns his gaze back to the road, but he smirks to himself. _Princess is actually pretty cute when she was scared_, he thinks, _Her eyes widen, her lips are slightly parted, and…_

Suddenly, Courtney shouts, "Police!"

Duncan glances in the rear-view mirror to confirm her outburst. Six headlights were quickly gaining ground, slowly catching up to them. Six lights meant three police cars. Not too bad. Duncan had outrun seven cops before. He steps on the gas pedal, propelling them farther.

"I'm going to go to _jail_!" Courtney wails louder than the police sirens.

"No you ain't, Princess. And neither am I," Duncan tells her. He spins the wheel, and they slide around a corner, tires screeching. He barely sideswipes a huge milk truck. Duncan presses a button, and the top starts to unfold, becoming the roof again.

Now that the roof was up, they gained more aerodynamics and sped up faster. Duncan pressed down on the gas pedal as they approached a street ahead of them that was full of hills. Duncan hangs half of his torso out of the window, aiming a pistol at the police, keeping one hand on the wheel. Duncan fires four rapid shots and turns back to the road.

The Rolls Royce ramps up the steep hill, and due to their high speed, they were airborne for a few seconds. To Courtney, everything seemed to be going in slow motion. Duncan slowly raises his fist out of the window and shouts, "Whoooooo!" Courtney turns her head to see the police behind them, their flashing lights slicing through the air… Red, whoomph… Blue, whoomph… Red, whoomph. The lights flowed by like a slow foghorn. As they reach the peak of their height, Courtney's stomach went up into her throat. As the car slammed into the ground, everything resumed regular speed.

There were three 'boom' sounds as the police's tires landed on the ground, still chasing her and Duncan. Then Duncan quickly turns a corner, and the first police car misses the turn. The other two cars still are on the chase. Next, Duncan blows through another red light, and the cop closest to them make it through the light also. But the second police car gets stuck behind traffic.

"We're losing them!" Courtney exclaims happily.

"Told'ja, Princess." Duncan presses down harder on the gas pedal, and soon they are blocks away from the police. But they could still see the flashing lights all the way behind them. Duncan turns into an alley, and stops the car. He dives out of the car and exclaims, "Quick, out of the car!"

Courtney hops out and slams the door shut. They could hear the advancing police siren. A teen leaps out of a dumpster, gives Duncan a high-five, and jumps into the driver's seat. He drives the car out of the alley and away from the police.

Duncan kicks a wooden board out of a doorway, and the nails snap out at the wood crashes down. He takes Courtney's hand and pulls her into the pitch-black room, which was so small that it was almost like a closet. He pulls her into his lap and they wait, panting, for the police.

Duncan's muscular arm was gently wrapped around her waist, and Courtney could feel his warm breath on her ear. The police car suddenly pulls into the alleyway and stops. The cop climbs out, hands on his waist, and surveys the scene. Then he reaches into the cop car, grabs the radio, and says, "Car 27 to base, car 27 to base: I think we've lost 'em."

Duncan's arm softly squeezes Courtney's waist, and she can feel his smirk in the air. She smiles too. All of a sudden, reality hits Courtney. This could be the time where she's finally _saved_ from being kidnapped! All she has to do is open her mouth and scream…

But wait! _Did Duncan have a gun? Surely he'd shoot me for turning him in, then the next person he'd shoot would be the cop_, Courtney debates. She casually shifts herself in Duncan's lap. Nope. No gun. She was sitting on his hips, so she would've felt the gun in his belt loop.

The police replaces the radio in the hook, and turns to analyze the alley. He itches the back of his balding head.

_So what's holding me back, then? Duncan is a criminal, and he _**deserves**_ to be in jail! But then again…he's been nothing but nice to me since he's, well, _**kidnapped **_me. Wait…shouldn't a kidnapper be in jail, though? Even though he's a nice…and _**hot**_ kidnapper…does he deserve to be in jail for twenty or thirty years? Jeez, Courtney, get a grip! He's a fucking kidnapper! Just open your big mouth, and _**scream**_. Scream for all you're worth!_

But somehow… Courtney couldn't get herself to turn Duncan in.

After the police had drove away, Courtney climbs out of Duncan's lap and they both stand up. Duncan looks at Courtney, who was wiping dust off of her skirt. She looks up and sees Duncan's expression. "What?"

"Why didn't you turn me in?" Duncan asks. He leads her out of the doorway and back into the alley. They walk out of the alley the way that the Rolls Royce had gone, the opposite way the police had gone. Surprisingly, they were right in front of the hideout.

"Well…yeah…" Courtney says, not really knowing what else to say. Duncan grins and grabs the doorknob of the front door. He opens the door, and he and Courtney immediately step right into the middle of a party. Guys immediately swarm around Duncan, giving him high-fives and patting him on the back.

"Awesome runaway, dude," said Damien, the gangster from the rooftop that first night. "We watched the whole thing from the tenth floor window. Very nice."

"Thanks, man," Duncan responds. He turns to Courtney, who has a shell-shocked look on her face. "We have a party after each rum-run. It's kindof a tradition now," he explains with a shrug. Courtney lifts an eyebrow and nods as a drunk gangster skips past her, spilling whiskey from an open bottle.

"Mmhmm, well, I think I'll just go and sleep or whatever," Courtney excuses, heading towards the staircase. Duncan grabs her arm and spins her around.

"Come on, Princess, let loose! We just gone done outrunning the cops, and you just want to go and _sleep_?" Duncan demands.

"Uh… yeah," Courtney continues, "This isn't the kind of thing my mother raised me to get involved in."

"Fine," Duncan replies, "Go continue being a stuck-up, goody-two-shoes rich girl." A guy hands Duncan a bottle of vodka and dives back into the throbbing, dancing crowd. He tilts his head back, takes a big swig, and takes a step away from Courtney to go party.

Courtney reaches out, grabs Duncan's shoulder, and spins him around. She snatches the bottle of vodka from his hands and takes a big sip of it herself. Duncan raises his eyebrows and watches in amusement. She hands the bottle back to Duncan and wipes the back of her hand across her mouth.

The vodka burned Courtney's throat since it was so strong. It had a faint lemonade taste, though she definitely knew it wasn't. She kept a straight face even when she was tempted to wrinkle her nose and gag. She crossed her arms to hold herself together.

"Very nice, Princess," he praises.

"Now let's dance," Courtney demands, pulling Duncan into the crowd. Once they reach the middle of the dance floor, she faces Duncan and a new song begins. **(A/N: I know absolutely NO old jazz songs, so I'm just going to pretend our music was around in the 1920's. Lol. This is Starstruck by Lady GaGa Featuring Flo Rida.)**

_Groove slam, work it back.  
Filter that, baby, bump that track.  
Groove slam, work it back.  
Filter that, baby, bump that track._

Groove slam, work it back.  
Space Cowboy, just play that track.  
GaGa in the room, so starstruck,  
Cherry, cherry, cherry, cherry, boom-boom!

Courtney swings her hips to the beat, swinging her hair everywhere. Duncan was hypnotized, but he danced right along next to her. Every now and then, Courtney would reach over and take another sip of vodka. To her, the liquor gave her a pleasant fuzzy feeling in her head, plus, it tasted better with each sip.

_Rollin' up to the club on the weekend,  
Stylin' out to the beat that you're freakin'.  
Fantasize on the track that you're tweakin'.  
Blow my heart up!_

Put your hands on my waist, pull the fader,  
Run it back with original flavor.  
Queue me up, I'm the twelve on your table.  
I'm so starstruck!

Duncan was looking hotter and hotter to Courtney... the way he swing his black hair, pumped his hands in the air, and how his tie bounced along to the beat. Courtney looks down and sees that her tie was doing the same thing, too. As the song reaches it's chorus, Courtney swings her hips harder, sending her skirt twirling around her slim waist.

_So starstruck, baby, could you blow my heart up?  
I'm so starstruck!  
Baby, could you blow my heart up?  
I'm so starstruck!  
Baby, could you blow my heart up?  
I'm so starstruck!  
Baby, could you blow my heart up?_

Either the liquor was messing with Courtney's head, or her body was slowly turning numb. Either numb, or just less responsive. Somebody bumps against the back of Courtney, and she feels a slight pinch on her butt. She scoots away from the person with wandering fingers, unknowingly bringing herself closer to Duncan.

_Baby, now that we're alone, got a request:  
Would you make me number one on your playlist?  
Got your dirty headphones with the left side on,  
Wanna scratch it back and forth, back and forth, uh-uh._

Put your hands on my waist, pull the fader,  
Run it back with original flavor.  
Put the breakdown first,  
Up into the chorus to the verse, bick-a-bick, a reverse.

Duncan sees Tyler pinch Courtney. Strangely, some nerve is struck within Duncan, some nerve that hasn't been struck in a long time... Luckily for him, Courtney swats at the hand and scoots closer to Duncan. It was an innocent move, but it somehow made him inwardly rejoice.

_Hey, lived all my life really, really is that him?  
I haven't seen here before, and she got all them big rims  
It's it like cash flow, my baby don't trip  
Should shawty say hand over your signature right here_

Like a just a dotted line, and I'm supposed to sign  
How she add it up, a fanatic and I think it's going down  
She's so starstruck, the gal all stuck  
I shoulda had an overdose on too many Starbucks

Ain't neva seen a balla, paper that stack taller  
Stunna soon let the top back on that Chevy impala  
Hummers and all that fully loaded with two ballers  
What do you call that when you're shawty with two daughters?

But that's another chapter, slow lover bachelor  
I don't know me, that's part of the baby actor  
Complete swagger, there go the dagger  
Got what she want, shawty happily ever after

Courtney slings an arm around Duncan's neck, bringing them into closer proximity than he could have imagined. Well... scratch that thought. Duncan's imagination was pretty vivid. He smelled her breath, and smelling the heavy liquor on her breath (well, scratch that thought, too... vodka was hardly strong to Duncan anymore, since vodka was pretty much just a weak version of moonshine). Duncan knew that Courtney was smashed.

_Groove slam, work it back  
Filter that, baby bump that track  
Groove slam, work it back  
Filter that, baby bump that track_

Groove slam, work it back  
Filter that, baby bump that track  
Groove slam, work it back  
Filter that, baby bump that track

Baby now that we're alone, got a request  
Would you make me number one on your playlist?  
Got your dirty headphones with the left side on  
Wanna scratch it back and forth, back and forth, uhuh

Put your hands on my waist, pull the fader  
Run it back with original flavor  
Put the breakdown first  
Up into the chorus to the verse, I'm so, I'm so...

Courtney was looking up into Duncan's teal eyes, which were practically glowing in the dim room. Suddenly, Duncan's lips collide with hers. Who leaned in first? Courtney really didn't know. All she knew was that... Duncan had really, really, **really** soft lips. Their lips moves with a sychronized movement that almost seemed like dance steps. This way, that way, this way again... Their bodies were jostled with other dancing gangsters in the room, but now, they were in their own element... an element that both of them really, really enjoyed.

_So starstruck, baby, could you blow my heart up?  
I'm so starstruck!  
Baby, could you blow my heart up?  
I'm so starstruck!  
Baby, could you blow my heart up?  
I'm so starstruck!  
Baby, could you blow my heart up?_

**

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(Author's Note: CarmillaD!!! OMG, I love you now. Lol. Everybody, she showed me this AMAZING deviant art that is totally awesome, haha. It has Duncan with a tommy gun… I had to look up what kind of gun it was on Google… and Courtney with a small hand pistol and smoking a cigarette.

**ATTENTION: The link to the deviant art pic is on my profile. I strongly suggest you check it out. I almost died when I saw it.**

**Also, I know the whole Courtney-partying-for-the-first-time-in-her-life thing is so cliché, but I thought I should do it. Hopefully this was a bit different than those other stories that include it. But I really hoped you guys liked the kiss at the end.)**

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	5. Planning

Courtney wakes up on Duncan's chest again, but this time they were in his bed. His hands were on her back, and their legs were intertwined. Duncan smirks at her, but his smirk disappears once Courtney lets out a groan. "What's wrong, Princess?" he asks.

"I think I have the worst hangover _ever_," she explains, putting both palms on her forehead and squeezing her eyes shut. "But I'm not quite sure what a hangover feels like, since I've never got one before, so it might just be a migraine. But due to the unfortunate turn of events, I'm tempted to believe I actually have a hangover."

Duncan chuckles, causing Courtney's body to shake on top him. "Ow," she says simply. Duncan rolls over, flipping Courtney onto the bed.

"I'll get you some water," he offers, pulling on some pants over his boxers. He silently closes the door behind him, leaving Courtney to wallow in her misery. Within a minute or two, he's back with a small cup of water and something in his fist. Duncan sits on the edge of the bed and hands Courtney the cup of water. He unfolds his fist, revealing two small orange pills. Courtney stares at it in trepidation.

"What is that?" she asks.

"A pill. Take it."

"But… what'll it do?" Courtney asks, not touching the pills. "Wait a second… are those… _drugs_?!"

"Pft. Jeez, Princess, why would I do that? Craig invented these things to get rid of hangovers in, like, ten minutes, no matter how much you drink. He's kindof a genius for this sorta thing," Duncan explains. Courtney didn't know who Craig was, or how much of a genius he could be, but she took the pills and swallowed them down. _Any_thing that would stop her horrid hangover.

Duncan took the glass and set it on top of the dresser. "Guess what we're doing today," Duncan tells her with a grin.

"What?"

"No, you have to guess."

Courtney puffed out a breath of air and her bangs flew up. "Fine… Robbing a bank?" she asks.

"Are you, like, psychic or something? Because, yes, we're robbing a bank," Duncan says, flopping down on his bed at the same time that Courtney stands up in astonishment. Duncan places his hands behind his head.

"WHAT?!" Courtney screeches, onyx eyes wide. Duncan didn't bother to try to explain, because she would just interrupt him anyway, so he just laid there. Not to his astonishment, Courtney continued ranting, "You can't just go robbing banks once you're short of money! That money that you are stealing are people's life savings, practically, and what are you even going to spend the money on? Beer and cars? _That_ is unacceptable! Some families need that money to feed their families or pay for their homes. Once that's gone, where will they be? I'll _tell_ you where they'll be: They'll be on the _street_, dirt poor is what. And what will _you_ be doing? Buying liquor and upgrading your escape car!"

She throws her hands in the air with disapprovement and then put her hands on her hips. "Well, Princess, you have a nice debate. However, if I do not find some cash soon, there will be no way to pay our taxes. Capeesh?" Duncan asks, rubbing his thumb and forefingers together to indicate money. "And do you know how Uncle Al got caught? He killed rival gangsters, robbed banks, smuggled liquor, but do you know _what_, out of all those, actually condemned him? Taxes. He didn't pay taxes, and that was the only way they finally found him. I'm not about to let that happen to me."

Courtney rolls her eyes. "Shouldn't you have a freaking accountant or secretary or financial aid of some sort?" she asks. "That way you wouldn't have to rob banks whenever you need a tiny bit of extra spending money."

"Would you like to be our little secretary, then, Princess?" Duncan asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Um, _no_. At least not until I have my own uniform, cubicle, and radio. I like to be professional when I do things, you may assume," Courtney insists.

"_Uniform_?" Duncan asks, slowly sitting up and raising an eyebrow.

"Ew, ew, ew!" Courtney grimaces, waving her hands at her sides and shuddering. "Get that nasty idea out of you head. I will _not_ be one of those flapper-slash-prostitute girls who dance around in the shortest dresses available. I will be a prim, proper, and tidy, young secretary."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, darling." Duncan disappointedly lays back down on the bed, but his mind doesn't let go of the thought of Courtney in a thong. He might as well keep letting her imagine she was picturing her in a short skirt instead of what he was really thinking, otherwise he may lose his "manly" parts.

There's a knock on the door and the door swings open to reveal Damien. "Dude, we gotta leave now," Damien announces, "Apparently the government got word that The Almighty Duncan Malone is gonna rob the bank on the northwest side 'a downtown. An armored car is driving from city hall to downtown, and we already have three accomplices trying to slow it down."

"Awesome. The perfect high-speed chase," Duncan says, hopping off the bunk and brushing past Damien. Courtney and Damien stare at each other, Duncan's footsteps filling their ears. Courtney walks past Damien into the hallway and tries to follow Duncan, but Damien grabs her arm.

"You have a different agenda than Duncan, Miss Pembrooke," Damien tells her, pulling her down the hallway in the opposite direction Duncan went. Courtney doesn't protest, but just focuses on not tripping in her high heels as they navigate the poking-up floorboards.

Damien opens a huge door to reveal the mother of all closets. Literally, the room was packed. It was even bigger than Courtney's closet back home. And _that_ was big. She dashes into the room, frantic to finally put on new clothes other than her pale blue dress and the black-skirt-white-shirt ensemble Duncan gave her. But Courtney's spirit was dampened when she realized all these clothes were for guys.

Damien laughs and opens a closet connected to the larger closet. Courtney gasps, and her enthusiasm was completely renewed. It wasn't a large closet -- this one was probably a bit smaller than her own closet. But still, it was new clothes! Courtney runs her fingertips along silks, cashmeres, cottons, and tons of other fabrics. Soon they all blended together and all Courtney could think was: _New. Clothes._

"Duncan had some guys go and buy you some stuff to wear, since you'll probably be here a while," Damien explains. "He wants you to wear shorts and a shirt for the robbery. I'll be back soon to check on you."

The door shuts and Courtney immediately starts hunting for shorts. It takes her three minutes, but she finally finds the shorts drawer. Unfortunately, the shorts are barely shorter than Courtney's underwear. Damien gives a warning knock on the door, and she pulls the jean shorts on. She shuts the drawer and grabs the first shirt she can find: a red-and-white-striped sweater with a scoop-neck. She kicks off her high heels and slips on a pair of bright red ballet flats.

Damien opens the door and says, "Great. You're ready. Now let's go." They walk down the flights of stairs to the foyer. A gusty breeze blew through the front door and Courtney shivered in her shorts, even though she was wearing a sweater. Winter seemed to come early in Chicago.

"The car is a couple blocks away, so I can get it and drive it up to the curb so you don't have to walk there with me, m'kay?" Damien asks, cocking a black-and-white-striped fedora on his head at 35-degree angle. Courtney smiles and he gets the message, shutting the door behind him. She was starting to like Damien.

Courtney was standing in front of the window-pane, watching the empty street when a hand brushed her thigh. She flinched and spun around, seeing a drunk gangster behind her. "Hey," he slurs and takes another sip of whatever was in the brown paper sack. Courtney was confused at his need to hide what he was drinking when they were in a _liquor smuggling warehouse_, but she waved that thought off.

"Nice legs. What time do they open?" the guy asks, apparently trying a crack at another pick-up line.

Instead of getting upset, however, Courtney just raised an eyebrow and jutted her hip to the side. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Damien drive up in a red racecar. Her hand blindly finds the doorknob. "I'm not sure. You'd have to ask Duncan."

With a tug on the handle, the door opens. Courtney walks out the door and down the steps. Of course, she was _not_ planning to fuck Duncan. _At least those perves will finally be off my back. They'd never flirt with their leader's alleged _girlfriend_, _Courtney thinks. She opens the car door and slides into the seat.

Damien presses the gas pedal and they zoom off to meet Duncan at the bank they're planning to rob.

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(Author's Note: No, sorry guys, but I'm not putting any other characters from Total Drama Island in this story. That Tyler guy from the last chapter was just a coincidence.

**CarmillaD: Ahh, no! I loved you even before you gave me the link to that deviant art! Lol. Love your reviews. **

**QUESTION: Should I dedicate each chapter to a different reviewer? **

**OMG, but homecoming was amazing!! Me and my friends danced with a huge group of Asian girls… they sure know how to dance, lol! Then my guy friend, Tim, started break-dancing, and it was so cool! But the fog machines set off all the fire alarms, and the teachers were going crazy, but nobody else cared. And my friend Emily told me that her sister, who is a stripper, taught her a bunch of "seductive" dance moves. Emily even went up to a senior girl and taught her how to grind, because apparently she was 'doing it wrong'. I love Emily. She's so fun. Has anybody else had their homecoming yet?)**


	6. Bank Robbery

"Get out here, walk into the alley behind the bank, and Duncan will meet you back there," Damien explains. Courtney pops the car door open and slams it shut behind her. Damien drives off, leaving her alone in front of a run-down bank. The glass windows were streaky and the shingles were practically falling off. Courtney walks into a trashy alley and navigates her way through tipped-over trash cans and murky rain puddles.

She was so consumed in watching where she places her feet that she didn't notice as two arms popped out from behind the bank and wrapped around her torso. Courtney started flailing, but stopped once she heard Duncan's low chuckle from right next to her ear. "You gotta calm down, Princess," he says, releasing her.

Courtney spins on him and hisses, "Well I had to walk down a freaking _filthy_ alley to come and try to find _you_, who, by the looks of it, was just trying to make me pee my shorts from fright."

After mention of her shorts, Duncan's eyes travel down Courtney's long legs. She slaps his shoulder and folds her arms over her chest. "Well, darling, you look good in Daisy Dukes," Duncan says approvingly.

"You could have bought longer shorts. Now just tell me why I need to be here and what I have to do."

"But I like short shorts so much more," Duncan explains, putting on a smirk. He wipes the smirk off his face after Courtney glares at him. "Fine. Surprisingly, this bank is highly secured. You wouldn't be able to tell from the outside, but we have the blueprints for the place. And the blueprints show that the only safe way in is from the roof."

Courtney just looks at Duncan, waiting for him to continue.

"_We're_ all too heavy to be repelled into the safe room. Which is where you come in. We'll go the roof, and you'll put on the harness. I will lower you into the safe, using the rope, and all you have to do is stuff two sacks full of cash. That should be enough cash to pay our debts," Duncan explains. He tosses two brown burlap sacks at her, and she catches them. "Ya ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Courtney grumbles. They climb up a rickety metal ladder to the concrete rooftop. Duncan picks up a harness and straps it around Courtney's waist. He bends down to click the snaps together between her legs, but Courtney swipes his hands away. She finishes securing the harness.

"Ready?" Duncan asks again, looping a rope through a hole in the back of the harness. Courtney raises an eyebrow.

"Need I repeat myself?" she asks.

Duncan chuckles and opens a ceiling hatch. Below them was a room with shiny linoleum floors. Courtney lowers herself down, and Duncan quickly lowers her into the room. Careful not to touch the ground in case of alarms, she hovers over the floor. She glides over to a cabinet and starts stuffing money into the brown sacks.

One bag was full, so she began on the next one. Halfway through the next bag, police sirens sounded in the distance. Courtney looks up to see Duncan's gaze looking somewhere in the horizon. Then he looks down and says, "C'mon, grab the cash and let's get out of here."

Courtney nods in response and quickly stuffs more green bills into the bag. A minute later, the door bursts open. Courtney gasps, and gunfire echoes throughout the room. She clamps her hands over her ears, and Duncan starts pulling her through the roof. Courtney collapses onto the roof and Duncan slams the trap door shut.

"Hurry," Duncan commands, helping Courtney to her feet. But she was too shocked, and her knees buckled. So Duncan swings her over his shoulder, and he leaps from the roof. Courtney clings to Duncan's shoulder as he leaps over trash cans and dashes across the street. He dumps her into the passenger seat of a convertible, not even bothering to open the door. He makes it over to the other side of the car by sliding across the hood. Duncan hops over the car door, not even bothering to open it, since the roof was open.

With one swift motion, the engine was ignited, the gas pedal was shoved down, and the car was zooming away from the curb. Courtney's heart was beating, and her hands were traveling down her body, searching for bullet wounds. "You okay?" Duncan asks, checking her out from the corner of his eye. She nods.

"Good. Hold this for me," he tells her, letting go of the steering wheel and climbing into the back seat of the car. Courtney shrieks as the car swerves, and she dives for the wheel. Soon the car is straightened out.

"What are you doing?!" Courtney exclaims, watching what Duncan is doing in the backseat from the rearview mirror. He's stuffing the brown sacks of money under the seat.

"Hiding the money in case we see the cops. Duh."

"No! Why did you leave the front seat?" Courtney scolds him. He shrugs and starts picking up some cash that had spilled out of a bag. Courtney focuses on the road. She reaches her foot over and stomps on the gas pedal, thrusting them forward.

"What're you doing?" Duncan calls from the back seat.

"Having fun!" Courtney shouts back at him. The high speeds whip her hair around her face, and the wind carries her words away. She lets out a laugh as the car zooms down a huge hill next to Lake Michigan. Courtney leads the car straight through a red light. _After all, the other cars were going much to slow_, she thinks. She gets a high from all the beeping cars and can't help blowing through a stop sign. Courtney laughs again.

Duncan climbs back into the front seat and takes the wheel from Courtney. "Dang, girl, you're gonna kill us!" Duncan exclaims.

"Yeah, whatever," is all Courtney replies. She was too excited. Her adrenaline is pumping as if nothing could tear her down. Suddenly, her ears register a familiar tune. Courtney reaches over and cranks up the newly-invented car radio. "I love this song!" she shouts over the music to Duncan, who nods in agreement.

Courtney raises her hands in the wind and starts dancing in her seat as she hums along to the song.

_Shawty's like a melody in my head!  
That I can't keep out,  
Got me singin' like:  
Na, na, na, na, everyday!  
It's like my iPod stuck on replay, replay-ay-ay-ay!_

_Shawty's like a melody in my head!  
That I can't keep out,  
Got me singin' like:  
Na, na, na, na, everyday!  
It's like my iPod stuck on replay, replay-ay-ay-ay!_

Duncan plows the car straight through yet another red light, swerving to avoid a delivery truck. Courtney lets out a whoop.

_Remember the first time we met,  
You was at the mall wit yo friend!  
I was scared to approach ya,  
But then you came closer,  
Hopin' you would give me a chance._

_Who would have ever knew,  
That we would ever be more than friends?  
We're real worldwide, breakin all the rules,  
She like a song played again and again!_

_That girl, like somethin off a poster.  
That girl, is a dime they say,  
That girl, is a gun to my holster.  
She's runnin through my mind all day, ay!_

Duncan raised his eyebrows as Courtney kneeled in her seat so that her head was above the windshield, so the wind could whip her hair. He had never seen Courtney as... **energetic** as she was now. and Duncan was kinda liking it.

_Shawty's like a melody in my head!  
That I can't keep out,  
Got me singin' like:  
Na, na, na, na, everyday!  
It's like my iPod stuck on replay, replay-ay-ay-ay!_

_Shawty's like a melody in my head!  
That I can't keep out,  
Got me singin' like:  
Na, na, na, na, everyday!  
It's like my iPod stuck on replay, replay-ay-ay-ay!_

Courtney started singing along to the music, and Duncan couldn't help but smile.

_See you been all around the globe,  
Not once did you leave my mind.  
We talk on the phone, from night til the morn.  
Girl you really change my life,  
Doin things I never do.  
I'm in the kitchin cookin things she likes._

_We're real worldwide, breakin all the rules,  
Someday I wanna make you my wife.  
That girl, like somethin off a poster.  
That girl, is a dime they say,  
That girl, is the gun to my holster.  
She's runnin through my mind all day, ay!_

Once the chorus began, Duncan started singing along with Courtney, which made her laugh.

_Shawty's like a melody in my head!  
That I can't keep out,  
Got me singin' like:  
Na, na, na, na, everyday!  
It's like my iPod stuck on replay, replay-ay-ay-ay!_

_Shawty's like a melody in my head!  
That I can't keep out,  
Got me singin' like:  
Na, na, na, na, everyday!  
It's like my iPod stuck on replay, replay-ay-ay-ay!_

Courtney could see people in their own cars staring at them as they drove by. They probably thought she and Duncan were a couple. But, truthfully, she couldn't care less.

_I can be your melody,  
A girl that could write you a symphony!  
The one that could fill your fantasies,  
So come baby girl let's sing with me.  
Ay, I can be your melody,  
A girl that could write you a symphony!  
The one that could fill your fantasies,  
So come baby girl let's sing with me._

They drive through the run-down neighborhoods until they drive onto the street of Duncan's apartment building.

_Shawty's like a melody in my head!  
That I can't keep out,  
Got me singin' like:  
Na, na, na, na, everyday!  
It's like my iPod stuck on replay, replay-ay-ay-ay!_

_Shawty's like a melody in my head!  
That I can't keep out,  
Got me singin' like:  
Na, na, na, na, everyday!  
It's like my iPod stuck on replay, replay-ay-ay-ay!_

Duncan pulls the racecar into the parking space in the alley next to the building as the last chorus comes on in the song. He and Courtney both start singing, "_Ay, na, na, na, na, na, na, na! Na, na, na, na, na, na! Shawty got me singin, Na, na, na, na, na, na, na! Na, na, na, na, na, na, na! Now she got me singin. Shawty's like a melody in my head!_"

Courtney was still smiling to herself even once they were both inside the tenement building. She was walking up the stairs to the kitchen to make herself some hot chocolate, since the cold wind blew her cheeks numb, when suddenly a thought popped up in her head: _Would it be so bad to be falling for Duncan_?

**

* * *

**

(Author's Note: The part where they both sang the song together was reallllllly cheesy. And I'm sorry for that. Usually I try to make my stories as real-life as possible, without all those corny moments. But, I am in love. Lol. Have you guys heard the song Replay by Sean Kingston? It was the song in this chapter. I am so totally in love with it! It's been in my head all day. It would've been annoying, but I love the song, so it totally wasn't. If you guys haven't heard it, I highly suggest you look it up on YouTube. It's awesome. And, just a hint, the song is much better if you turn it up as loud as your computer can go. Haha.)


	7. Flappers

Courtney took a seat on the lumpy couch in the living room with her cup of hot chocolate pressed to her palms. She had changed into a pair of dark gray sweatpants, and out of those slutty shorts, while the water for her drink was heating up. She'd had to roll the waistband of the sweats a couple times, though, since Duncan's friends had bought a pair that was too long. But it didn't matter, since Courtney liked to roll her sweats.

Then the matter at hand, once again, popped up in her mind: _Would it be so bad to be falling for a guy like Duncan_?

Her CIT voice showed up, too, to remind Courtney's other subconscious voice to shut up and ship out of there. Of course, it didn't really say that. It said, _'For a guy like Duncan'? Don't you mean 'Duncan'?_

_Well, yes. Duncan is surprisingly nice. But then he's also sweet…And handsome…And, oh, that bad-boy personality is so tempting…_

_Courtney, you used to hate those bad-boy types! Don't you still feel for the guys with blonde hair, blue eyes, a perfect grade card, and respectful morals? _

The more wild side to Courtney's personality let out a huff. Actually, an imaginary huff, since all this was going on in her mind. _Yeah, but the rush is so amazing when I'm with Duncan! Tell me you didn't get a thrill when you drove that speeding racecar._

_I didn't get a thrill when I drove that speeding racecar. Courtney, when will you start listening to reason?! You could have killed somebody with all your shenanigans! Remember that cop Duncan shot at when you two went rum-running? Do you WANT to be responsible for somebody's death?_

_Of course not! But he's innocent, I tell you! Duncan wouldn't want to purposely kill somebody._

_He's just a gangster. He'll use you._

_Shut up! You wouldn't know, you stuck-up CIT! You never have any fun! And he KISSED me! You know he's feeling something in that rarely-used heart of his._

_Sure, he kissed you. But watch him go and break your heart. Just watch._

_He's innocent. I swear. Duncan's a good guy._

"Hey, Princess, what's up?" asks Damien, plopping down on the couch next to Courtney. She holds up her cup of hot chocolate to try to calm the reverberations so the steaming liquid doesn't spill.

"Just… thinking."

"About what?" Damien asks. Courtney's cheeks immediately blush. A smirk slowly grows across Damien's chiseled face. "_Ohh_… I see here. You were thinking about Duncan, weren't you?"

"Of course not!" Courtney quickly denies. Damien laughs, seeing through her lie, causing her cheeks to grow a brighter red than before. She reaches over and smacks his arm.

"Mmhmm. You're getting all defensive. Tell me which you like more: his teal eyes that you can't decide whether are more blue or more green, or his bad-boy personality that just gives you this _rush_," Damien gushes, looking at Courtney and waiting for answer with faux excitement.

She rolls her eyes. "So you've heard this before?"

"I knew it!" Damien snaps his fingers. "But, no, I just hear stuff on the street and in speakeasies and such."

"Let me guess. Duncan has a lot of girl-fans," Courtney says, small traces of envy bubbling up in her.

"Oh, you have no idea. Whenever they see him driving around, they almost faint in his wake. And most of them go to the speakeasies just for a chance to see him and hope that love-at-first-sight happens to him," Damien explains.

"Hmm."

"Don't be jealous," he teases. "Duncan hasn't had a girlfriend in, like, forever."

"Why not?"

Damien shrugs. "He says he's 'too busy' with the liquor smuggling business to deal with any 'PMS-ing chicks'," he explains, using air-quotes around Duncan's quotes.

"Interesting."

"Yep. Well, I might as well get to the point of why I came up here. There's another party later tonight starting right after supper. Don't eat anything before the party, though, otherwise you'll puke if you drink more than two bottles. Wear a dress from that closet I showed you earlier," Damien explains, hopping up from the couch.

"Do you have a lot pf parties?" Courtney asks.

"Dude, we _live_ to party."

* * *

Courtney was scanning the dresses in her closet, debating which one she should wear to the party. There were a couple long dresses, but Courtney thought that at their party, it might be more appropriate to wear a short dress. She plucks a silk, knee-length dress just barely a shade lighter than forest-green from the rack.

She holds the dress up to the full-length mirror and moves her body behind the dress. Courtney nods, satisfied, and hangs the dress on a hanger as she strips down into her lingerie. Courtney slides the silky-smooth dress over her head until it falls over her shoulder. The fabric fans out just above her knees and Courtney looks at herself in the mirror.

The dark green of the dress made Courtney's brown eyes pop, and her tan skin looked even darker than usual. After brushing her hair repeatedly, it was shiny and sat on her strong, squared shoulders. Her legs were shiny, since she had recently shaved them in the shower. Courtney slipped glimmering golden bangles onto her thin wrists, and the bracelets tinkled like holiday bells whenever she moved her hands. Along with the black mascara and eyeliner Courtney had put on earlier, she'd say she looks gorgeous. She slips on a pair of strappy green high-heels around her thin ankles and click-clacks her way out of her huge closet. In the hallway outside of the bunk rooms, Courtney almost collides with Damien.

"Daaang," he choruses, his eyes traveling down Courtney's body. "You look amazing. Truly. Duncan's gonna love it. Trust me, I've been his best friend for years."

"I do not like Duncan!" Courtney quietly hisses, whipping her head around to be sure nobody overheard Damien, who laughs.

"Don't worry, everybody is down at the party. Jeez. Chill."

Courtney attempts a shaky smile and they walk down the stairs towards the party. Music was already soaking through the thick wooden stairs and reverberating through her chest. As Courtney walks through the door into the 'party room', she stands there for a bit, utterly shocked. Damien walked onward.

There were girls everywhere. The gangsters were still there, of course, but by the looks of it, they had invited a bunch of flappers-slash-prostitutes to the party. The girls wore dresses so short that their butts were hardly covered, and their hair was cut barely past their ears in a bob. Courtney's first instinct was so scrunch her nose with dissatisfaction.

These girls were sluts. They were whores, prostitutes, hookers… basically the rebellious girls of society. Courtney had always been taught to stay away from them. Then her second instinct was, _Duncan_.

_Was he hanging out with these whores? Flirting with them? Dancing with them?_ Her next thought drove shivers up Courtney's spine: _What if Duncan was _**liking** _it?_

Courtney dove into the crowd, begging to find Duncan somewhere. If only he could see her in her beautiful dress, he'd lose all thoughts of those slutty flappers… if he was thinking of those flappers at all, which Courtney was hoping he wasn't. That was when it hit her: _I'm in love with Duncan_.

She shakes off her urge to be surprised because, somehow, Courtney had known it deep down all along. Suddenly, she sees his signature black hair from across the top of the crowd. Courtney stands on tip-toe, trying to see where he was going, but he had disappeared. She pops out of the huge crowd, in front of the makeshift stage where flappers were doing the can-can. Their dresses were flying up, showing peeks of their underwear. Courtney sniffed in disgust as multiple men stood as close as they could to the stage, mesmerized.

"Hey, Princess," Duncan murmurs directly in her ear. His hands travel to Courtney's waist and she smiles shyly. She turns around so Duncan could get the full effect of her ensemble, and, luckily, his gaze was nowhere near the flappers on stage. He was concentrating so hard on her dress that it looked as if he was committing it to memory. "You look… amazing."

Courtney's smile grew bigger. "Thanks. You look good too," she tells him. He was smirking, but, somehow, it wasn't his usual smirk. This smirk almost had a bit of emotion behind it.

"Gee, I'd have thought you wouldn't like it," Duncan replies. He was wearing a white cotton shirt similar to the one he wore when Courtney first met him… err, was _tackled_ by him. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and faint veins were visible through his skin. A sure sign of pure strength. The tie was gone, and the top couple buttons were undone, revealing part of his tan, toned collarbone.

As Courtney stood there, staring into Duncan's deep teal eyes, song lyrics popped into her head: "_See the first time me looking at your eyes, me be tell you want a guy like me. I feel like…I'm drowning in the ocean. Somebody come and take me away-ay! Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, ohh. Why'd you have to go-oh, away from home? Me love._"

It was true. His deep blue-green eyes made Courtney feel like she was drowning in the ocean. **(A/N: Sorry about the bad grammar in the afore-mentioned song lyrics. It's Sean Kingston… What can you expect? Lol. But, sorry, I'm not usually obsessed with him… I'm just listening to his CD right now, so it makes sense to me.)**

Duncan holds his hand out to Courtney, and she takes it. He leads her into the crowded dance floor, and they begin dancing to the current song on the stereo. During the next song, Duncan offers Courtney, "You want a drink? I'm parched." She nods. "M'kay, I'll be right back." He weaves through the crowd on the way to the drinks.

Courtney keeps dancing in the middle of the dance floor for the next two songs, until she couldn't take the thirst anymore. She weaved through the dance floor, heading towards the drink table. Once Courtney walks out of the crowd, she immediately sees Duncan.

Her eyes fill with tears.

She spins around and runs for the stairway, pounding up two stairs a time.

"Courtney, wait!" Duncan calls from behind her, but she doesn't stop.

She doesn't even turn around to look at him.

**

* * *

**

(Author's Note: Ohh, cliffhanger! Lol. Don't worry, the next chapter is, like, already halfway written.

**Also, I'm going to a Halloween party Saturday from seven until midnight. Me and my four best friends are going to be those 80's work-out chicks dressed in neon spandex and sweatbands. Lol. We're decorating white t-shirts in that neon fabric paint and we're gonna write "Feel The Burn!" on the backs. I'm so excited! We're gonna look retarded, haha.)**


	8. Whiskey

Courtney was in the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat lid. Piles of soiled tissues laid in her lap, stained with black puddles of running mascara. Her high heels were laying on the floor. There was no point in wearing them anymore. Courtney sniffs and looks in the mirror.

_So much for looking gorgeous_, she thinks. Running mascara left black trails down her flushed cheeks. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her nose was running, and her hairline was wet with tears she had tried to wipe away but had only soaked into her hair. Courtney lets out a shaky breath as she re-lives what happened once she ran up the stairs.

Duncan had chased her up the stairs and had easily caught up to her. Courtney had spun on him and kicked him right in the balls, with her heels, no less, and that had bought her enough time to make it to the bathroom. Once she was alone, Courtney immediately burst out sobbing. Duncan had pounded on the locked door and even began picking the lock. Out of sheer adrenaline, Courtney had shoved the porcelain bathtub in front of the door so Duncan couldn't shove open the door, even though it was unlocked now.

Courtney looked up from her place on the toilet. She could still see Duncan's shadow underneath the crack of the door. _Good_, she thinks, _Let him hear me cry. It'll teach him a lesson. _He's been waiting there the whole hour Courtney's been trapped in the bathroom.

And after an hour of crying, Courtney had a pounding headache. Even though it wasn't a hangover, she wished she had a couple of those pills. Maybe they worked on headaches as well as hangovers. She stumbles over to the sink, dizzy spots floating across her line of vision as her head turns light-headed. She stares herself down in the mirror as she remembers the whole scene.

She had just made it off the dance floor when she saw them. Duncan was holding a bottle of vodka in his hand, and the busty flapper who was pressed up against him was holding a glass of wine. Duncan was leaning back against the refreshments table as her hip was pressed against his crotch. Her arms were twisted around his neck (balancing the wind glass in her hands), her boobs were practically flattened against his chest, and his hand was intertwined in her curly blonde bob. Their lips were pressed together as if they couldn't get enough of each other.

Courtney would probably remember that scene for as long as she lives.

She turns on the faucet as another sob wracks her body, and Courtney splashes some water on her blotchy pale cheeks. The drying mascara regains liquid form, and runs off her face. She wipes her face on a plush blue towel, accidentally staining it with black smears.

Courtney grabs the edge of the porcelain tub. She tugs on it, but the bathtub hardly moves. Her strength seemed to have depleted one hundred percent. If she had to wait any longer, Courtney would have probably fell asleep in the bathtub. But she kept tugging the bathtub, slowly dragging it away from the door. The scratching was so obvious that Duncan probably knew Courtney was coming out of the bathroom soon.

Her assumption was proved correct and the shadow under the crack of the door shifted, revealing that Duncan had stepped away from the door.

But he was still waiting for her.

Once there was a foot of clearance, Courtney slipped through the bathroom door, leaving her high heels on the floor. She stalks past Duncan straight into the kitchen. She could hear his footsteps behind her. Courtney reaches into the refrigerator and grabs a big bottle of whiskey. Something to make her forget all what happened.

Turning around, she breezes pat Duncan, managing not to make any eye contact. But she could tell that a five o'clock shadow had already grown on his smooth jaw. One glance at the clock on the wall told her that is was three in the morning. Courtney grabs the doorknob of a bunk room that isn't labeled with a name.

"Princess, I can explain," Duncan finally murmurs from behind her.

Courtney wheels around and glares daggers into his eyes. No, not daggers, _fire_. No, not fire, _poison_. Anything that is deadly. Because her look was a look of icy death that startled Duncan. Surely she was mad, but he didn't know she was _this_ upset.

She turns back around once she knows that she had silenced Duncan in the middle of his apology. She opens the door, walks into the cold and empty room, and slams the thick door right in his face. Courtney collapses on the bare mattress, that didn't even have sheets on it, much less a pillow, and opens the whiskey bottle.

She pauses for a second and hears Duncan's footsteps retreat down the hallway.

Then Courtney drains half of the whiskey bottle in one long sip.

She wakes up shivering. The empty whiskey bottle is hugged to her chest, nestled between her breasts. She's curled up in a ball, and only her thighs are warm. Courtney opens her eyes, which is a challenge, since the mascara and tears mixture had dried her eyelashes together. Once her eyes are open, though, Courtney's body turns to stone and her lips form a tight line.

"What do you want?" she asks, her voice dripping with poison.

Duncan holds his hands out innocently. "Don't freak out. I'm just here to explain," he tells her. Courtney looks at him.

"Well? I'm waiting."

He takes a deep breath before beginning. "So. I went to get us a drink, and I had grabbed the bottle of vodka for me. But I got you a glass of wine since I knew you didn't like strong alcohol. Which you kind of proved me wrong last night…," he says, motioning at the empty bottle of whiskey.

Courtney hugs the bottle closer to her. Liquor seemed to be the only thing that she could rely on these days… except for the pounding hangovers. But, now that she thought about it, she could always count on the hangovers to be there in the morning, even though she didn't appreciate them much. "Last night was a special circumstance," Courtney croaks. Her throat was raw from sniffling all last night.

"Right. Well, uh, I had the alcohol, so I was just turning around to head back to find you when somebody took your wine. I look and see Mary, who is --."

"Mary?"

"Uh, yeah…"

"You know her name?"

"Well, she worked at a speakeasy I'd rum-run to sometimes…"

"You. Know. Her. Name."

"Yeah," says Duncan, not seeing what was so wrong. Courtney looked at him in disbelief, and her eyebrows were furrowed. Except her eyebrows were probably just furrowed against her bad hangover. She blinked at him, and he took that as a signal to continue, "She was drunk. I mean, I could smell it on her breath. And… her pupils were dilated. I could just tell. So, uh, she kisses me."

Courtney finally notices the jacket draped across her curled-up legs. She stares at the zipper as she feels Duncan's gaze on her. Staring at the warm jacket, she finally couldn't take it anymore. Courtney slid the jacket around herself and zipped it up. "Continue," she tells Duncan, still not looking at him.

"She kissed me, I swear. I tried to pull away, but I hit the refreshments table to I was… pinned," he explains, looking down at his hands.

"You could have shoved her away." Duncan looks up to see Courtney staring straight at him. He keeps her gaze, not breaking away.

"I couldn't. She's a girl."

Again, Courtney just blinks at him.

"So… She kissed me. She was out of control. There's no denying that. Her arms were around my neck, and at first I put my hands on her waist to try to push her away. She thought I liked it, so she kept kissing me. Then I just had to grab a fistful of her hair to pull her off me. That's the part you saw," Duncan explains.

_That explains his hand in her hair_, Courtney thinks. But she just fumbles with the zipper of the jacket she was wearing. "Did… you… like it?" she asks shyly, but her cheeks didn't even blush. She was way too worn out from everything.

For some reason, this makes Duncan grin. _If that was all Courtney cared about…_

"Of course I didn't like it. She was… drunk. She was way too crazy, and she looked like _nothing_ compared to you," Duncan tells her.

"…Really?" she asks.

Duncan smirks and nods.

Courtney smiles.

"Well… I guess I forgive you… for now," Courtney warns him. Duncan scoots closer to Courtney and she sits up, letting go of the whiskey bottle. She climbs into Duncan's lap and he wraps his arms around her.

_I forgive Duncan, _Courtney thinks_, but Mary is going down._

**(Author's Note: Dang, I am on a roll! What is this, three chapters in one day? Haha. I know for sure this is chapter number two. Anyway, it's pretty obvious some drama is coming up. Can't wait to write about it. Ugh, I have no life. Lol.)**


	9. DriveBy Shooting

* * *

**(Author's Note: Hmm. Well. Usually I keep my AN's at the end of my chapters, but disclaimers are routinely put at the _beginning _of chapters. So since I never made a disclaimer at the beginning of any chapters, much less the beginning of the story, I'm making one now... Even though it's kinda obvious. Like, seriously, if I owned TDI or TDA, I wouldn't even be _on _FanFiction. No offense.)**

* * *

Late next afternoon, Duncan and Courtney were walking along the cracked sidewalks in downtown Chicago. They were heading towards the grocery store for the weekly grocery shopping. Since she was going to be the secretary at the Log Cabin Company, she had to find out some of Duncan's spending habits. Like, for example, what he bought to eat every week.

Then another thought was nagging at the back of Courtney's head: _Where did Mary live? What speakeasy did she work at? _The urge to scratch out Mary's eyes out with Courtney's French-tipped fingernails bubbled up each time she thought about the party.

Duncan opened the door for Courtney and they walked into the cool air-conditioned building. She pulled a sheet of paper out of her purse and led Duncan straight into the produce section. "Alright, so. We'll need tomatoes, carrots, celery, spinach, lettuce…" Courtney lists.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Princess. Why do we need freakin' _vegetables_? It's a waste of my money," he groans. Courtney taps her foot on the hardwood floor and glares at Duncan.

"You told me _I_ would be in charge of buying the groceries this week. And _I_ plan on buying a nutritious, well-rounded meal plan that don't fall into the mere two categories you eat from: meat and liquor," Courtney responds. Duncan rolls his eyes at her moot point, because he was obviously still healthy from eating meat and beer all his teenage life.

She smiles in success and begins piling groceries into Duncan's open arms. After about half an hour, they walk over to the cash register and Duncan glares at the nerdy cashier, who looked as if he was about to burst out laughing at any moment from watching a tough guy like Duncan go grocery shopping with his girl.

Once all the groceries were rung up, Courtney hands the wad of cash Duncan had given her as her budget for the shopping trip. Duncan smirks at the cashier, whose eyes went wide at all the money. He grabs the groceries in the plastic bags and holds the door open for Courtney with his hip.

"I believe that was a successful shopping trip," she preens, tossing her thick brown hair over her shoulder and grinning at Duncan.

"Sure thing, darling."

They were within sight of the Log Cabin hideout when the sound of a speeding car roared behind them. Duncan spins around, and a glint of something silver hanging out of the open window catches his eye. "_Fuck_!" Duncan shouts, "Courtney!"

In a mere second or two, he had dropped the groceries and shoved Courtney into the brick wall of an apartment building. She gasps as the breath is taken out of her, and Duncan steps up to her body. Duncan's hip and Courtney's hips were pressed together. His arms were around her shoulders, and his hand was on the back of her neck, holding her head against his chest. Courtney was completely shielded from the rest of the world. She was about to shove him away when…

Rapid gunfire flew through the air, chipping the brick surrounding Duncan and Courtney. The screech of squealing tires filled the air and the car zooms off. The whole thing couldn't have taken more than a few mere seconds.

"C'mon, we gotta get out of here before they drive around the block and come back for another shot," Duncan says grimly, taking Courtney's hand and leading her to the apartment. She looks over her shoulder at the abandoned groceries on the sidewalk. She turns back to Duncan and notices his jaw tightly clenched. The next thing Courtney notices, as they walk through the front door, is the bright red gash across Duncan's upper arm.

She gasps and drops Duncan's hand. "Oh my God, Duncan, you're hurt!" Courtney exclaims.

He looks down at his arm with amusement. "Yeah, Princess… I've noticed," he replies with the regular smirk plastered on his face. He starts walking upstairs with Courtney right on his heels.

"But… you should go to the hospital! You were shot!"

"Correction, babe. I was _grazed_ by a bullet, not shot. I'll be perfectly fine. Nothing a bandage can't fix in a day or two." Duncan walks into a room with white walls, white cots, and all-white furniture. Courtney follows him as he sits down on a white stool and props his forearm onto a white counter.

Damien saunters into the room in front of another guy with a dark bowl-cut and lighter brown streaks. Damien claps his hands together and motions to the tall, tan, dark-haired teen. "Announcing… _Craig_!" Damien announces theatrically. Craig bows down deep, nearly bending entirely in half. Once he stands up again, his hair naturally flips back into place and he fixes the placement of his thick, black, rectangular glasses on his nose.

_Wait_… **this** _was Craig_, Courtney noticed, _The guys who invented those anti-hangover pills_. She all of a sudden had a new appreciation for him. He must be the kind of 'doctor' in this place because of his obvious brains and intelligence.

Damien stands against the wall next to Courtney and they watch as Craig begins shuffling through the drawers underneath the counter Duncan's arm was resting on. Craig pulls out various cloths, rags, pins, gauze, and creams and places them on the counter while Duncan slowly unbuttons his white cotton shirt. With each new button unbuttoned, Courtney's eyes became even more transfixed on Duncan's tan chest.

Of course she was expecting muscles, after all, he was a juvenile delinquent, but that was no preparation for what was to come.

Duncan had large pecs, enveloping his whole chest in pure muscle. A chiseled line ran down his stomach, creating a large cavity that split into six cracks that separated his eight-pack abs. His skin was smooth with no trace of chest hair or a Happy Trail, which was good, because hair was somehow a turn-off to Courtney.

Duncan's shoulder muscles ripple underneath his skin as he slides his shirt off of him. He tosses his shirt at Courtney, snapping her out of her daze. She catches the soft fabric in her hands and notices that the shirt was still warm from his skin. Courtney looks up and sees the smirk on Duncan's face as if he was telepathically telling her that he saw her staring at him. She blushes and quickly looks down at his shirt in her hands, suddenly extremely focused on a clear button, but not before she saw his wink in her direction.

"I'm… tired. Pardon me," Courtney murmurs, quickly thinking up an excuse to _get the heck out of there_, before her cheeks set fire to the room.

"Can't take much more of staring at my body?" Duncan calls after her, a smirk evident on his lips as Craig gets to work. Courtney rolls her eyes to keep from trembling in embarrassment. She heads to Duncan's room and tosses his shirt on the bed, shutting the door behind her.

Quickly, Courtney strips down into her bra and underwear and snatches her pajamas from the chair in the corner of the room. She slips on a pair of green plaid, mid-thigh length Soffe boxer-shorts that she has salvaged from her closet. Then she slid the long-sleeved, white cotton button-up shirt Duncan had lent her around her torso -- just because the shirt was extremely comfortable to sleep in.

Suddenly, the door bursts open while Courtney's shirt was yet hardly buttoned. She lets out a startled yelp and does the best she can to close the open flaps of the shirt. Duncan stood there, still shirtless, but now with a bandage around his shoulder/arm. There was no smirk, no perverted comment.

He immediately steps up to Courtney and grabs her arms, bringing her as close to him as Courtney's ample chest would allow without her squeaking in pain. Duncan leans down and kisses her with an uncharacteristic sense of urgency and lust… Usually Duncan's kisses were gentle and sweet. The grip of Courtney's fist keeping her shirt closed slowly lessened.

Somehow, both of them managed to stumble over to the bed, where Duncan landed with Courtney on top of him.

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(Author's Note: First of all, happy reallllly late Halloween! Second of all, wow. This chapter literally took me forever to write. And it was short and sucky quality, too. Sorry about that. Also, nothing major happened between Courtney and Duncan besides some intense making out. No sex… for now. Lol.)

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	10. Drug Dealing

Courtney was beginning to have serious doubts about making out with Duncan last night. The early morning sun was shining though the blinds of the window, and she was curled up to his side. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that almost made Courtney want to go back to sleep. And worst of all, snuggling right next to him made her feel extremely guilty. She let out an enormous sigh that, surprisingly, didn't wake Duncan.

_Why did we make out so much last night?!_

Courtney's inner self rolled her eyes and replied, _Seriously. You just felt sorry for him. He could have died saving your life, and he looked hot with that bandage on his shoulder._

_Kind of like big Baby Booms after wars and stuff._

…_Riiight. Except without the sex part. Or the part where Baby Booms happen to soldiers who obey the law, not rebellious gangsters. OR the part that there was a war._

_Shut up. I just haven't been myself lately._

_Mhmm. I think we've established that already. _

_But…I made out with him. Doesn't that mean I like him? At least to some extent?_

_You may have a tiny crush, Courtney, but really, can you actually imagine Duncan turning into a responsible father?_

_Oh, now you're talking marriage?_

_Just answer the question._

_Well…no. Not as good as I can imagine the apple salesman, Frank Gardetta. _

_Come on, you're not seriously crushing on him again, are you?_

_No! I'm just saying that whomever marries him will be with a great husband._

_Sure…_

_But what about that complete break-down I had with the whiskey and tears and crap after that Mary girl kissed Duncan? Does THAT show I have at least some sort of attraction to him?_

_Uh…no. The wine was just making you tipsy, and you overreacted. Just like how any girl would do if her crush was kissing another girl right after flirting with her. Except maybe minus all the whiskey consumption._

_Gee, thanks for all your unending sympathy._

_I'm here to help. Now let's just forget that unfortunate event because, truly, it was downright embarrassing how you totally broke down, _imaginary-Courtney shuddered in her mind, but apparently Courtney really did shudder because Duncan's eyelids were suddenly gliding open.

"Cold, Princess?" he asks drowsily, staring at her with those hypnotizing teal eyes of it. _That was it! I was hypnotized!_

Instead of sharing her internal debate with him, Courtney just lies and agrees with him, "Mhmm." Duncan flips a heavy down comforter over them, adding a comforting weight to the pile of blankets. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a huge yawn. Courtney snuggled her head right into the crook of his neck. _Why did he have to be so cute?_

Suddenly, the bedroom door slams open. Courtney flinches, but Duncan's eyes calmly glance towards the door. Damien stood there, excited blue puppy-dog eyes twice the size they usually are, and exclaims, "Duncan! Thomas Crane is downtown selling pot again!"

"But I thought he retired from drug dealing!" Duncan replies, eyes wide and a smirk on his face.

"Guess not! So hurry up. He says that if we pay in credit instead of cash, he'll let us buy in bulk," Damien explains.

"Are you fucking serious?" Duncan asks, a huge grin on his face and his eyebrows lifted high. Damien nods in response and Duncan looks at Courtney. "I'll be right back, babe."

"Ew, do you know how many toxic chemicals are in marijuana?" she chides Duncan and Damien leaves the room. Duncan lifts an eyebrow in amusement.

"Princess, nobody here calls it marijuana. We call it pot. Or weed, or ganja, or Mary-Jane, or grass, or chronic, or buds, or blunt, or hootch, or jive stick, or ace, or spliff, or skunk, or smoke, or dubie, or flower, or zig-zag, or--," Duncan lists off the top of his head.

"Okay, okay, I get it! Calling _marijuana_ marijuana is probably such a huge social misapprehension in your world of liquor, ammunition, and prostitutes. And it probably labels me as some prissy, stuck-up, rich girl whose never even smoked a cigarette before just because--."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetheart. Pause. Rewind. Did you say you've never smoked a cig before?" Duncan clarifies.

Courtney rolls her eyes and continues, "I've never had a cigarette. And I'm definitely not going to start any time soon. But you _need_ to stop smoking marijuana. Do you know how bad that stuff is for you?"

"Oh, and now you suddenly care about my health, _darling_?"

"Well, _darling_," Courtney retorts, "I just have a bad feeling about going and meeting this _Thomas_ character."

"Calm down. He's, like, a brother to me. Besides, I hardly even like pot. I mainly get it for my guys." Duncan slips out from under the bed sheets, slides some ripped jeans over his boxers, and buttons up a new cotton shirt.

"Well, that's good."

"Sure thing. My preferences are for cocaine," Duncan tells her, winking, and running out the door before he could face her wrath and a rant about his health. Courtney climbs out of the bed and heads to her closet. She puts on some dark-wash skinny jeans and a aquamarine v-neck tee over a white cami. Then she wraps a cashmere jacket around her shoulders.

Courtney walks down the stairs and meets Duncan by the front door. He opens the door and they head down the sidewalk to the Rolls Royce. They climb in as multitudes of Duncan's accomplices load crates of liquor into the backseat. "But I thought we were buying on credit," Courtney points out.

"When you run a liquor business, darling, credit just means we buy in liquor, not cash," Duncan explains, revving the engine. They shoot off, driving down multiple one-way alleys and roads that barely get used. Eventually, the car pulls up besides a dark alley with spider webs clinging to rusty fire escapes.

"I'll be right back. You can stay here," Duncan tells her as he grabs a crate of the liquor from the back. He carried the heavy crate under one arm and sets it down near the entrance of the alley. Minutes later, a silhouette of three guys walks down the alley.

"Hello, Duncan," the man in the middle says once they were barely feet away from each other. Courtney could see Duncan's fists tense up. She was glad she could hear their conversation from the small crack where her window was rolled down.

"What did you do to Thomas Crane?" he demands.

"Oh, we _took care _of him. Once we found out he was dealing with you, we knew you had to put a stop to it," the shadow says.

"So... you... killed him?"

"Good thing you're catching on, Duncan. One drug dealer isn't enough for two gangs," the man explains. Finally, Courtney understood. These men were from a rival gang. They were probably even the ones who were close to running her over on the day she met Duncan. These guys were dangerous.

"Alright, then. I'll just leave this case here," Duncan says, tapping the crate with his foot. "You guys can have as a sort of endowment from Log Cabin." The men just glare at Duncan, and so he turns around and slowly begins loping towards the Rolls Royce.

"Duncan!" Courtney cries out as two of the men jump onto his back, bring Duncan down onto the hard concrete. The other man's gaze flicks over to the car, and Courtney slowly sinks down into the seat. _Shut up, Courtney! Shut up, shut up! That man heard your shout. Next time, just keep your fat mouth closed_, she hisses to herself.

He walks over to the car, and Courtney's hand whipped out towards the door lock. The man jiggled the door handle and glared down at Courtney with an evil, amused smirk on his face. She was now shaking in fear and her heart beat as fast as if she had just ran a marathon.

Courtney lunged for the car keys, which were still in the ignition, to hopefully start the car and drive away. _But could I really leave Duncan like this? No. _Her hand snapped back from the car keys as the man punches his fist into the car window. There was extra purchase from the window being open an inch, and a loud shatter echoes through the air as glass flies all over Courtney.

"Courtney!" Duncan shouts as she screams and lifts her arms from her head from trying to cover herself from the flying shards of glass. The man had already reached through the jagged window and unlocked the door, which was swung open. Courtney kicks at him as she leans her torso away from his approaching figure. There was no connection, however, and he angrily grabs her ankles.

He harshly tugs her out of the car and she falls heavily onto the concrete. Courtney's body was frozen in shock as her forehead was pressed against the cool brick road. She was facing the dog-pile where Duncan and the rival gang members still fought it out. Suddenly, Duncan was tackled to the ground and his head cracked against the hard ground, making him wince. The two men hold Duncan down.

Courtney and Duncan finally make eye contact, her eyes full of fear and his full of sorrow. _I'm sorry, _Duncan mouths to her. She manages to nod in forgiveness, but not before something slammed into the back of her head, causing her vision to black out and her body to go limp.

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(Author's Note: Intense chapter! Ohh, and a cliffhanger too! Sorta. But there's probably not going to be another chapter this weekend, since I have to write a mystery for English, and I have to make a mystery board game to go with it. Also, I have to write 5 pages in my journal about connections I've made while reading my book. That should be easy, since I love reading and writing. So… review! Tell me what you think will happen in the next chapter, and I'll tell you if you're right ;) By the way, don't ask me how I know all those nicknames for pot. Let's just say I go to a high school with a bad influence. Lol. Sayonara!)


	11. Racketeers

**(Author's Note: Since I totallllly said I would do this, but I never did, and I** _**think**_** it's been put off long enough, I am finally dedicating this chapter to an ever-faithful reviewer! Remember, don't feel bad if you aren't picked, since I'll try to do as many as I can before the story ends. So, this chapter is dedicated to… THE SPACECOWBOY XD!!! Also, The SpaceCowboy XD, I've been meaning to ask you, did you get your name from Lady GaGa's song Starstruck? Cuz the lyrics go: '_Groove, slam, work it back, filter that, baby bump that track. Groove, slam, work it back, _****_space cowboy_ **_**just play that track. GaGa in the room, so starstruck, cherry, cherry, cherry, cherry, boom, boom.**_**' Lol. Just wondering! But I love that song anyway ;) Now enough of Lady GaGa, and on with the story!)**

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"Courtney! Courtney!" she hears her name being hissed in a low voice. Her eyelids flutter open and light floods her pupils, much to the disapprovement of her pounding headache. The first thing she sees is the rough, brown ropes around her wrists. She was laying on her side, on a dusty gray floor, with her wrists tied to a tall wooden post. As she slowly attempted to sit up, the itchy rope rubbed her wrists like an Indian Burn.

Once she was sitting with her back to the post, Courtney looked to see where the voice came from. Duncan was staring intently at her from just three feet away, where he was handcuffed to a metal bar. The bar was one of the many metal bars that led up the concrete wall like a ladder. "Are you okay?" they both demand at the same time.

Courtney blushes and Duncan smirks at her. "You first," he says.

"I'm fine. I think. Just a headache. What about you?"

"Just some bumps and bruises. I could handle two Racketeers," Duncan replies. Courtney rolls her eyes in response. Even after being beat up, knocked out, and locked to a metal bar, he still managed to stay cocky.

"What's a Racketeer?"

"Well, racketeering is a person who commits illegal crimes for business. For example, bootlegging and liquor smuggling. The Racketeers are the Log Cabin's rival gang, basically," Duncan explains, and two men walk out of a large metal door behind him. He notices them walking across the room, and Duncan immediately leans forward to hiss, "Don't talk unless spoken to. Trust me. And do what they say, no questions asked."

"Well, well, well, you sleepyheads finally woke up! Now who do we have here?" a man asks in a mock-concerned tone, facing Courtney. "What's your name, bitch?"

Courtney was appalled at the man's audacity towards women, automatically calling her a bitch. And, of course, she didn't want to risk her mother and father's safety by offering these criminals her last name. Apparently, she stalled too long to give her name, since the man with the black gelled-back hair slapped her across the cheek.

Her head whipped sideways, blurring her vision for a second as her eyes brimmed with tears from the stinging. She froze her head where it was, not letting the man have the satisfaction of eye contact. "Courtney Pembrooke," she says fiercely, her voice dripping with ice. How she managed to keep her voice steady after being slapped, Duncan had no idea.

"Is your father Richard Pembrooke?"

After a moment in which she keeps them waiting, Courtney opens her mouth to reply, still glaring at the ground. Gelled-hair-man grabs her jaw in his palm, tugging her face in the direction of his. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he commands, fingernails digging into her skin. Her eyes flick to Duncan, whose expression says, _Do what they say, no questions asked. _Courtney receives another slap for looking at Duncan, but her head stays in place due to gelled-hair-man's grip on her jaw. "Answer me!"

"Yes."

"So you're a rich little slut, aren't you?" gelled-hair-man says, letting go of her and standing by his blonde partner. Both of them had a smirk on their faces, since somehow hearing Richard was her father amused them.

"What do you want with her, Jude?" Duncan suddenly demands from his place on the ground. Gelled-hair-man, now known as Jude, grabs Duncan's shirt in his fist and tugs his face close to his. Duncan was unfazed.

"I want to kill her," Jude growls in Duncan's face. Courtney's gasp was audibly loud, yet the three guys ignored her. The blonde gangster was watching his comrade intently, and Duncan and Jude seemed to be having a stare-down. Finally, Jude releases Duncan's collar and stands up. "…But, unfortunately, I can't do that. Jared here won't oblige," Jude grumbles, jerking his head towards the blonde, who steps forward.

"Mhmm. We can't kill her because how else will we get the fucking ransom? Ever think of that?" Jared demands, flicking his blonde hair superiorly into place. Jude looks at the floor, cursing himself. "Yeah, that's right. You _didn't _think of that. And that's why _I'm_ the leader of our gang, not you."

Once again, Courtney gasps.

"You're going to try to get ransom from Daddy?"

"From _Daddy_?" Jared mocks. "That's sweet. And, yes, once I'm done with your rich family, there won't be one cent to pay for all your precious belongings. Trust me, sweetheart." Jared playfully taps Courtney's cheek with his fingertips. She just sits there, jaw clenched, his voice repeating over and over in her head: _sweetheart… sweetheart… sweetheart._

Only _Duncan_ called her sweetheart.

"You son of a bitch," Courtney whispers, her voice filled with hatred. Jared raises an eyebrow, half amused.

"I really don't think you're in a position to be making the calls, gorgeous," he warns her, flicking his wrist at a window overlooking the vast warehouse. Multiple gangsters begin climbing down the metal ladder Duncan was trapped too. They hop over him and roughly grab Courtney off the ground. Somebody slashes the ropes off her wrists, revealing her raw, red skin.

They drag her away, towards an open metal door, with her kicking and resisting all the way. Duncan glares up at Jared until Jared finally kicks him in the side. "Why the hell are you staring at me?"

"Why the hell are you torturing Courtney like this?" Duncan snaps.

"_Ohhh_… _I_ see," Jared coos, placing his hands together and putting them in a prayer position underneath his nose, right on his lips. "You _love_ her, am I right? You're just trying to act brave for your precious girlfriend?" he asks, turning his hands so his fingertips pointed at Duncan.

"We're not dating," Duncan murmurs.

"Aw, but you have a _crush_! How sweet!" Jared exclaims, hopping on the tips of his toes for a moment, like a gay would. He stopped bouncing and glared at Duncan, his gaze filled with hate, envy, and danger. Jared's fists were tightly grasped at his sides, shaking with emotion. "Then I'll be sure to crush your little girlfriend into the dust."

With that, Jared followed after his accomplices into an all-concrete room, where they tied Courtney to a chair and dialed up her father on the phone. As Duncan's own little torture, Jared left the door open a crack, so for an excruciating half hour, Duncan heard Courtney's screaming and wailing.

Duncan collapsed on the hard floor, still handcuffed to the metal bar, and a sob escaped his throat.

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(Author's Note: Short but brutal chapter, am I right? Poor Duncan. It made me feel bad writing that. But, I was imagining myself hugging him… which is a pretty enjoyable thought ;) Even though the whole bad-boy image is so cliché. I mean, who doesn't like that hint of danger and… other crap? Well, the next couples chapters will be extremely intense and suspenseful, so… stay tuned! Lol. I sound like a TV commercial. Anyway, leave me some awesome reviews and/or ideas! I thrive off your awesome reviews. They really propel me to write faster.)


	12. Shoot Out

**(Author's Note: And this chapter is dedicated to… VEGZOMBIEGRL! Yayyy! Btw, thank ALL of you for the amazing reviews! I kinda should have been more descriptive during the last chapter, but I was kinda off in La-La Land, since I was drinking Starbucks and trying to stay awake to finish homework. So… get ready for the sob-story!)**

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The door slams open and reveals a Racketeer gangster carrying Courtney's limp body in his arms. Bruises spotted her arms, legs, and even her face. Another gangster steps out of the room with a thick, wooden baseball bat in his hands. He swings the baseball bat in large arcs and winks at Duncan. He almost puked due to the queasy feeling in his stomach he got when he thought of what they did to Courtney.

The Racketeer places Courtney on the floor next to Duncan, cuffing her to the same metal bar as Duncan. The accomplice walks off and Jared walks up to Duncan. "I decided to let her be by you. _But_ don't get any funny ideas. She's so sore that she'll probably break out in screams again if you even touch her," he warns with a sick smirk on his face.

"Well, are you getting the ransom? Are you getting the fucking money now? Are you _happy _now?!" Duncan practically spits, anger bubbling up in his chest. He could see Courtney's beaten, bruised, unconscious body crumpled up next to him out of the corner of his eye.

"Actually, no. We only got the answering machine of their house. So we just left a message. We'll doubtfully get the random money, since I never left an address or phone number, so oh well. It'll just freak out her parents," Jared exclaims, throwing his head bag and laughing.

"You a sick bastard," Duncan snaps. Jared immediately stops laughing to kick Duncan in the side. He winces, but returns his sizzling gaze on Jared. "You won't get away with this."

"Oh, yes I will. Let's see: Who's the person trapped to a ladder with their half-dead girlfriend passed out next to them? Oh. Right. That's _you_!" Jared cries enthusiastically.

"For _now_," Duncan threatens.

"I'd like to see you _try_," Jared replies and walks away, slamming a thick metal door shut behind him as he walks into his office. Suddenly, harsh tapping echoed throughout the warehouse. Luckily, nobody else was in the huge concrete storage room besides Duncan and Courtney because when Duncan looked up, he saw Damien.

Damien was looking through a window high up on the wall. The window was so high it was practically a skylight. Damien cracks open the window and hisses, "Duncan!" even though he already had his attention.

"What?" Duncan hisses back. He quickly scans the area for any Racketeer gangsters, but there weren't any. He turns his head towards Damien again just in time to catch the paper airplane flying his way. It was a bit immature, but there was no other way to send the letter.

Duncan impatiently tries to unfold the paper, and he reads the note, which said: '_D -- Log Cabin guys r coming 7 w/ back-up. B prepared, & I'll BRB. Eat this note -- D._'

Duncan turns his head to Damien and gives him a look like, _What the hell?_ There was no way Duncan was going to eat paper. But it was truly the only way to destroy the evidence. Damien shrugged, and, having no way out of it, Duncan stuffed the paper in his mouth. The window closed as Damien left, and Duncan waited for practically 5 minutes for his spit to soften the paper. He gulped, and the wad of paper fell like a rock into his stomach. Duncan nearly gagged, except he'd eaten worse.

When he looked down at Courtney, he noticed tears streaming down her cheeks. Her face was still calm, but she was starting to wake up, since her body was starting to notice the pain again. Duncan wiped her tears away with his thumb, but it only caused her to shudder.

_Fuck, _Duncan thinks, _Of course her cheeks are bruised. Why can't I do anything right?_

Her eyelashes flutter open and a low moan escapes her throat. Duncan had heard that moan in his dreams… his, rather, _perverted_ dreams. _Why, oh, why did Princess have to moan like that when she was in pain? Why not when I'm kissing her?_ Duncan demands.

"I'm so sorry, Princess," Duncan tells her. Then he leans down, close to her ear, and whispers, "Help is coming in an hour. Just wait until then, and you'll get better. I promise you."

Courtney nods, even though she winces at the effort. She drags herself next to Duncan and lays her head on his muscular upper arm. Duncan, terrified to move, just lays there with her hair spilling over his arm for the next forty minutes.

After that long of laying there, Courtney finally fell asleep again. Duncan was nervously looking around, excitement buzzing though his veins. _When was Damien going to be here? And who is his "back-up"? _His foot tapped anxiously as he watched Racketeers walk around the warehouse at a normal pace. Obviously they hadn't found out about the invasion at 7p.m.

When time slowly ticked down to three minutes left, Duncan meticulously counted the seconds in his head. He had to know if Damien was late, which would signal a change of plans or an emergency. But just then, Jared started walking towards Duncan with a smirk on his face.

Jared pulls a shiny silver key out of his jacket and bends down to unlock Courtney's handcuffs. Once the click was heard in the lock, Duncan whips his hand out and grabs Jared's wrist in a vise-like grip. The key drops to the floor in a clatter. "What are you doing?" Duncan demands. _Jared couldn't take Princess. No. Not yet. Not when we're this close to freedom._

"Don't worry, _Dunky_, I'll take care of your little girlfriend. Just calm down."

"Like hell I'll calm down!" Duncan snaps, "Next time I see her, she'll probably be dead! No. She's staying right here. You've done enough."

"I'm afraid you're not one to make the decisions, Duncan." Suddenly, somebody from behind Duncan grabs his arms and holds him down while Jared un-cuffs Courtney and picks her up. Jared smirks at him and backs a distance away. The gangster holding Duncan down lets him go and runs off before Duncan can spin around and beat him up one-handed.

Duncan hops up and lunges for Jared, who was just a finger's length away. Duncan felt as if the handcuffs would rip his hand from his arm, but he still pulled with all his might. "I hate you!" Duncan shouts at Jared, "I'm going to kill you! You're fucking dead to me!"

Jared just winks and carries Courtney into his office. The bolt of the door was heard from across the empty warehouse. All of a sudden, glass shatters all around the perimeter of the spacious room and rains down onto the concrete. Moonlight poured through the open windows and pooled on the gray floor. Gangsters dressed in the Log Cabin's signature starch white shirts rappel from the ceiling and drop onto the glass-littered floor.

"Damien!" Duncan shouts across the warehouse. His friend sprints across the room, pistol clutched in his hand. "Over there! Jared dropped the key." Damien scoops up the key, not slowing his pace, and hands Duncan the key. Duncan was so excited for a fight that he was full of jitters. He swiftly unlocked himself and stood up.

Damien tossed him another pistol and Duncan caught it in his palm. Right then, gunfire echoed throughout the whole warehouse, so Damien and Duncan dove for cover. Damien jumped behind a trashcan, and Duncan slid behind a stack of rubber tires. He rolled onto his stomach and peeked his head from behind the stack. A large mass of Racketeers were running and diving for cover, shooting so many bullets there was practically a gray cloud of metal flying back and forth in the air.

Despite Duncan's whole body, which was shaking with excitement, his hands were steady. Every single aim he took on a Racketeer hit it's mark, whether he hit their arm, leg, or smack in the middle of their forehead, killing them instantly. Duncan looked behind him, where multiple familiar faces from Log Cabin peeked out of their hiding places and shot at the Racketeers. Some of them even caught Duncan's gaze and tilted their heads up at him. **(A/N: You know that kinda upside-down-nod thing that guys always do? Their chins kinda go up and it's basically a reverse nod. Ya know?)**

Blood was trickling along the concrete floor, on both sides of the warehouse. Duncan couldn't help but notice that there was less blood on the Log Cabin side of the shoot-out than the Racketeer side. He smirked, since his gang has always been better than Jared's.

Finally, bullets started running out on the Log Cabin side. Some gangsters had thought to bring extra cartridges, but most of the guns fell silent. Even Duncan ran out of bullets. Slowly, the Racketeers started to advance, hopping from one hiding space to another to dodge the remaining bullets. Duncan hid behind the pile of tires and waited for a victim to accidentally stumble upon him.

A minute later, a Racketeer tried to dove behind Duncan's pile of tires. He was on one side, and the Racketeer was on the other side -- even though the rival gangster didn't know of Duncan's presence. When the gangster stood up to run to the next hiding place, Duncan tripped him and dragged the man next to him. With one kick to the temple of his forehead, the Racketeer was passed out. Duncan took his gun and checked the cartridge. Three bullets left. And inside the guy's pocket was another cartridge, with twenty bullets. Within minutes, all the bullets were gone.

Duncan abandoned the Racketeer's gun and grabbed his own empty gun. It was better to make people think you were armed than without a weapon. He looked out from behind the tire stack and surveyed the scene.

Bodies littered the floor, and blood was everywhere. Bloody handprints marked the walls that gangsters gripped to stay steady during their final breaths. Bloody footprints covered the floors. Some half-dead gangsters laid on the ground, unconscious or moaning and bleeding to death. Dozens of guys held fistfights in the middle of the warehouse, since there were no bullets left. Others stayed in their hiding places, waiting for a rival gangster to walk by so they could jump them.

But most importantly, there was a straight-away to Jared's office. No bodies laid on the floor, becoming obstacles. No hiding places were nearby, so no gangsters could assault him.

So Duncan scrambled onto his feet, gun clamped in his hand, and sprinted for Jared's locked office door.

_Time to rescue the Princess._

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(Author's Note: M'kay. The song is called Hot Mess by Cobra Starship. You guys better read the lyrics, because it kinda describes Duncan and Courtney's relationship. Kinda. I'll bold the really good parts. Also, you guys should be so excited for the next chapter!!! I have such a good idea ;) So, in school, we had to make a retarded time capsule think we'll be looking at once we graduate. We each had to make a list of the words we use, like, all the time. Of course, my list was basically this:

**like****, ****totally****, ****ohmygod****, ****whatever****, ****yeah****, and ****duh****. This made me sound like a freaking Valley Girl, practically. Ya know? Oh well. It's true. I go to a school that's half badass and half that's Barbie-girl-preppy, and I'm **_**definitely **_**not badass. In fact, I'm wearing a pink shirt right now. Lol. Just review, please!)**

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_You were a problem child.  
Been grounded your whole life,  
So now you runnin' wild.  
__**Playin' with them good girls,  
No, that ain't your style.  
**  
__**You think your hot shit!  
Ooh, I love it, I love it!  
**Yeah, yeah!  
__**Stumbling, but yeah, you're still looking hella fine.  
**Keep doing what you're doing and **I'ma make you mine.**_

Well, you're a hot mess and I'm falling for you.  
**And I'm like hot damn! **

_**Let me make you my boo.  
**Cuz you can shake it, shake it, shake it!  
Yeah, you know what to do.  
__**You're a hot mess!  
I'm loving it, hell yes!  
**  
__**I've been hypnotized.  
The city's your playground,  
**I watch you take a bite.  
At 5a.m. roaming the streets,  
Drunk all night._

**You think your hot shit!**  
**Ooh, I love it, I love it!**  
Yeah, yeah!  
**Stumbling, but yeah, you're still looking hella fine.**  
Keep doing what you're doing and _**I'ma make you mine.  
**  
Well, you're a hot mess and I'm falling for you!  
**And I'm like hot damn! **_

_**Let me make you my boo.  
**Cuz you can shake it, shake it, shake it!  
Yeah, you know what to do.  
__**You're a hot mess!  
I'm loving it, hell yes!  
**  
You're a hot mess and I'm falling for you!  
**And I'm like hot damn! **_

_**Let me make you my boo.**  
Cuz you can shake it, shake it, shake it!  
Yeah, you know what to do.  
__**You're a hot mess!  
I'm loving it, hell yes!  
**  
__**If you're dancing up on tables,  
You go, you go, you got it girl!  
**Say that you're unstable,  
You go coco, you got it girl!  
Dancing up on tables,  
Say that you're unstable.  
You're a ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, yeah, you're a hot mess!  
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, we're singing hell yes!  
_

_Well, you're a hot mess and I'm falling for you!  
**And I'm like hot damn!**_

_**Let me make you my boo.  
**Cuz you can shake it, shake it, shake it!  
Yeah, you know what to do.  
__**You're a hot mess!  
I'm loving it, hell yes!  
**You're a hot mess and I'm falling for you!  
**And I'm like hot damn! **_

_**Let me make you my boo.  
**Cuz you can shake it, shake it, shake it!  
Yeah, you know what to do.  
__**You're a hot mess!  
I'm loving it, hell yes!  
Hot mess,  
I'm loving it, hell yes!  
Hot mess,  
I'm loving it, hell yes!  
**Ooh, ooh!_


	13. Confrontation

**(Author's Note: First of all, I'd like to say that Gabe Saporta from Cobra Starship is a sexy beast. Lol. Idk how I accidentally left that major detail out of the last chapter. But anyway, this chapter is dedicated to… EDWARDANDBELLA4EVAH!!! Congrats!)**

* * *

Bullets tore at Duncan's shirt as he sprinted across the warehouse. But he was sure none of them pierced his flesh, since he would have known about it… Unless he was just numb to the pain. Duncan tended to block the pain out when he was concentrating really hard. He finally made it safely across the room, and he didn't bother checking the doorknob. He knew it was locked.

So, instead, Duncan flipped the gun in his hand so that he was holding the barrel. He reared his arm back and smashed the butt of the gun through the non-bulletproof window. Glass sprayed everywhere, slicing into his cheeks and arms and ricocheting off the curtains. Duncan threw the curtains aside and placed a hand on the windowsill. The glass cut through his palm, but he still hoisted himself through the window and into Jared's office.

Duncan spun the empty gun in his hand, aiming it right at Jared, who was backed into the corner. Jared held a gun up, too, and there were a tense couple of moments as they glared at each other. The sights of their pistols were pointed at each other's foreheads.

"You better not shoot, Jared," Duncan warned, "I have lighting-quick reflexes. You pull the trigger, and I'll pull my trigger. We'll both be dead." Little did Jared know, Duncan was out of ammo.

"Same for you," Jared grumbles, "You pull your trigger, and I'll pull mine. We'll both be dead, and you'll never see your precious girlfriend again." Duncan's eyes flickered over to Courtney, who was curled up in a chair with wide eyes.

"So… truce?" Duncan asks. "There's really no other option, unless you want to stand here all day."

"Alright. You put your gun down first."

Duncan barked a harsh laugh. "What do you think I am? _Stupid_?" he demands. But Jared's jaw clenched and Duncan quickly shook his head. It was better to not make Jared angry. "You put your gun down first."

"What do _you _think _I _am? Stupid?" Jared replies, mocking Duncan. "Let's just put both of your guns down at the same time. On three, okay? One…"

Their arms shook.

"Two…," Duncan continued.

Their fingers clenched their guns, waiting for the other's reaction.

"Three," Jared finishes.

Both their arms ever so slowly lower the pistols, but then Jared quickly lifts his gun up again. As if in slow motion, Duncan sees Jared's finger whip towards the trigger and pull it back. Duncan drops to the floor and the air from the bullet ruffles his hair. He sticks his foot out and whips it under Jared's legs, knocking him over.

Duncan leaps onto Jared and swipes the pistol away. It clatters across the floor. Jared and Duncan tussle on the ground, throwing punches at each other that rarely connect with it's target. As Jared pins Duncan down, he goes limp. Suddenly, Duncan hops up and throws Jared against the wall. Duncan hops on top of Jared and pins his arms under his knees.

Duncan wields the gun in his hand and, since there was no ammo, he swings the butt of the pistol at Jared's face. The first blow cuts his lip. The second, third, and fourth blow land various cuts and bruises over Jared's face. The fifth swing lands the gun on Jared's nose, and a loud crack is heard. Blood begins gushing out of his nose, and Duncan swings the gun one last time at him. It smacks Jared's right temple and he lets out a huge moan. Finally, Jared goes limp.

Duncan stands and tosses the gun on Jared's chest. He carefully walks towards Courtney, who was still curled up in the wooden chair. She was shaking, and her eyes were still wide with fear. Duncan holds a hand out to her and whispers, "Don't worry, Princess. Jared's dead now. I won't hurt you. C'mon, you can trust me."

Some girls became terrified once they've seen their crushes or their boyfriends beat some other guy up, Duncan knew, but that wasn't the case with Courtney.

She stood up from the chair, knees wobbling, and enveloped Duncan in a hug, with her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her to him for God knows how long. Eventually, Damien's voice called out, "Duncan! Man, let's get outta here!"

Duncan lifts Courtney up bridal-style and

They walked out into the warehouse, where Log Cabin gangsters were standing around a heap of Racketeers, who were either dead or tied up. "Is Jared dead, dude?" Damien asks.

"He's either dead right now or will bleed to death," Duncan answers. "Now let's go."

Gangsters climb up the ropes, twenty feet in the air, and climb back out the window to the roof. The teenagers from Log Cabin line up by the dangling ropes and, one by one, vault themselves up the ropes. One remaining Racketeer launched himself out of his hiding spot, and he tackled Damien. Immediately Log Cabin gangsters over-strengthened the Racketeer, and they got him pinned down to the ground. Damien liked his fist to punch his in the face, but Duncan commanded, "Freeze!"

Damien's arm halted, halfway to the Racketeer's face. Damien looked up at Duncan for further instruction. Duncan jerks his chin at the door leading out of the warehouse and suggests, "Why don't you take our little Racketeer friend for a ride?"

A slow smirk creeped along Damien's face until dimples began their slow descent into his cheeks. At the same time, the Racketeers' eyes bulged in fear and desperation. "Please!" the Racketeer pleaded, "No! Duncan, no! Anything but that!"

But Duncan just casually turned his gaze away from the Racketeer as his Log Cabin cronies yanked the Racketeer to his feet. They shoved him out the door, while he was kicking and resisting the whole way. As the heavy metal door slowly swung shut, they could still hear his yells coming from outside.

"What will happen to him when Damien takes him 'for a ride'?" Courtney asks sleepily. Some of her words were slurred together, since she was half-asleep, and her hot breath breezed into Duncan's pierced ear.

"Nothing. You wouldn't want to know."

Courtney shifted in his arms, and insisted, "Of course I want to know."

At first Duncan just watched his friends climb up the ropes to the roof. He was breathing out of his mouth, and refused to make eye contact with Courtney. "Damien… he's going to take him to Lake Michigan," Duncan explains, still watching the ceiling.

Courtney is silent, waiting for Duncan to elaborate. Which he does, a second later, "They're going to… strap weights on his ankles… and drop him into the lake." Courtney gasps and he finally looks down at her.

"I told you you wouldn't want to know," he tries to excuse himself.

"But… that's terrible!"

"Yeah, well, it's life okay?" Duncan snaps, "Life isn't always rainbows and butterflies in your world of money and shopping and Wall Street." Courtney just stares at him, and he sighs. "Listen… I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, "There's been a lot on my mind."

"I understand," Courtney whispers.

Finally, all the gangsters from Log Cabin were on the roof. Duncan hoists Courtney over his shoulder and he begins the long, yet easy, climb up the rope. She clings to his back and her eyes were squeezed shut so she wouldn't have to look at the ground.

Duncan steps up onto the gravel top of the roof, and he sets Courtney down. She leans against him, and his arm steadies her around her waist. "Alright," Duncan commands, "Down the fire escape, into our get-away vehicles, and straight back home." The gangsters steadily file down the stairs and into the cold, crisp night air.

Once again, after they were the last ones left behind, Duncan holds Courtney's hand and helps her down the fire escape. She was much more steady on her feet, because most of her injuries had healed into bruises. Duncan leaps down the last jump of the fire escape, and he catches Courtney in his arms as she gently falls back.

They walk to the last car left in the alley, the black and white Rolls Royce. Duncan climbs into the driver's seat, and Courtney into the passenger seat. He guns the engine, and quietly zooms off back home. The milky-white light from the full moon was glowing into the front seat, lighting up nearly everything. Small stars glittered against the navy velvet of the night sky. Cold air blew through the window, which had been broken open during their kidnapping, making tiny goosebumps pop up on Courtney's arms. The salty air from Lake Michigan smelled tart, and the wind blew her silky hair against the headrest of the seat.

"Can you write down your address for me?" Duncan asks, breaking the silence. He hands a pen and scrap of paper to Courtney out of the glove compartment. She takes the pen in her fist and places the paper on her thigh, even though she was confused.

"Why do you need it?" she replies, even though she had already scrawled her home address on the paper in her girly handwriting. Duncan takes the paper and tucks it into his back pocket. Courtney tosses the pen back into the glove compartment, but keeps her eyes on Duncan, whose lips had pressed into a tight, grim line.

Duncan quickly bites his lip, runs a strong hand through his black hair, and blurts, "After you heal a bit more… I'm taking you back home."

**(Author's Note: Gasp! So sad! Sorry I hadn't updated in a while, guys. I had wayyy too much homework.)**


	14. Carved Skull

**(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to… I'M RANDOM!)**

* * *

"What do you mean?" Courtney asks, breathless. It felt as if she was just punched in the gut. "You're taking me… home?"

"It's too dangerous to keep you living with me at Log Cabin. You could have gotten killed, and I'm not going to risk your life any more," Duncan explains. He refused to make eye contact with her, even though they were parked in the alley next to the hideout. Duncan twists the key and the faint motor shuts off.

Duncan crosses his arms over the steering wheel and sets his forehead on his wrists with a huge sigh. "But I wasn't hardly safe _without_ you, either, when I was walking home with those apples that day I was almost ran over," Courtney points out.

Duncan sits up against the driver's seat and looks at the ceiling of the Rolls Royce. He faintly shakes his head. "Courtney, let's face it, I cause you more danger than what you would face alone," he replies.

"But what about you promising me I could be your secretary? I could do that and stay out of danger just fine!" she pleads. Her onyx eyes her huge; she refused to leave him for any reason he could come up with.

"You hardly know half of the things that even go on in Log Cabin!" Duncan protests, "And it would be just as dangerous. You don't even know _how_ much."

"Duncan--," Courtney started. She leaned towards him, hands on her knees, as if she was ready to start a debate. Duncan just shook his head, still keeping eye contact, and his hand blindly grasped for the door handle.

"Courtney… I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you. I'm sorry, but… I'm taking you home tomorrow morning," Duncan tells her. He opens the door, steps out, and slams the door in her face. He practically jogs to the front door, wind ruffling his black locks, and not looking back once.

Courtney slumps in her seat, her forehead frozen in wrinkles of shock and confusion. Finally, as if in a daze, she walks out of the car and into the apartment.

* * *

The next morning, Courtney puts on her sky blue dress she wore the day she first met Duncan. She slides on her matching high heels and walks down the staircase. Duncan was waiting by the front door in his usual white cotton shirt rolled up to his elbows and loose black tie. He opened the door for her, and she steps out into the cold. The freezing air nearly blew her shivering frame back into the apartment, but Duncan put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

He shuts the door behind them and they walk to the Rolls Royce. They climb into the car and shut the doors, confining them to an awkward silence that seemed to stretch for miles. Courtney wanted to completely spill everything and actually _talk_, because these would be the last moments she ever spent with him. But, of course, she kept her mouth shut.

Duncan drives for ten minutes until he gets to the busiest section of Chicago. All the traffic was normal for Courtney, who had lived in it all her life. But Duncan? He was used to the barren streets of downtown Chicago, where only a select few of people owned cars.

He leaned on the horn, startling several business men walking crossing through the middle of the street. Duncan cranked the window down and stretched his head out into the cold air. "Get out of the road!" he shouts at them. With his piercings and fierce expression, the men scrambled for their lives for the sidewalk.

Duncan drove until they got to an expensive apartment building in the middle of town. He bent down in his seat to look up at the very top of the skyscrapers. He let out a low whistle and expertly parallel-parked between two Ford Model-T's, the closest parking space available to Courtney's house. He and Courtney climb out of the car and walk down the street with a large mob of business men walking to work.

They cross the street when the light turns red, or just whenever there was a shortage of moving cars. Courtney walks up a short flight of stairs, in front of a huge apartment building. She turns to Duncan, who had followed her. "I probably shouldn't go in there," he tells her, motioning to the revolving doors of her apartment, "I'd look out-of-place."

Courtney just nods, silently begging him to kiss her, take her back to Log Cabin… _anything_. But instead, Duncan reaches into his pocket and withdraws a crude carving of a wooden skull. It smelled like cedar, and the sharp scent wafted up to Courtney's nostrils in the cold wind.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, placing the small skull in her hand. Courtney seemed devoid of any sign of life, besides her eyes following Duncan's every movement, so he gently curls her fingers around the skull. He holds her hand for a moment longer than needed before finally letting go.

Courtney blinks and looks down at her hand, curled into a fist around the skull, and doesn't notice when Duncan begins to lean down towards her. She finally notices him once his warm lips softly press down on her pink, ruddy cheeks. He pulls away and whispers in her ear, "I love you."

This makes her head snap up, but he was already walking at a brisk pace halfway down the sidewalk. Her eyes well up as she looks back down at the skull. She looks up again, burning every detail of Duncan's retreating form into her brain. She'd never forget him. Not his silky, black hair that ruffled in the wind or his teasing smirk. Not his strong, tan hands that have been in countless fist-fights or his velvety warm, self-assured voice. Not his ice-cold piercings that tickled Courtney's face when he hugged her or his crisp, white cotton shirts that smelled like a combined mix of cologne, cedar, and… Duncan. He had a smell to himself that she couldn't quite place. Finally, he was a mere speck in a speedy mass of business men in tuxedo's who were attempting to get to work on time despite the huge crowds. As a lone tear spilled over onto her cheek, Courtney swiftly wiped it away and strode into the warm apartment lobby before her tears froze to her skin in the chilly weather.

_If he loves me so much_, she thinks ruefully, _why did he leave me like this?_

* * *

Her parents were utterly, completely overjoyed to see her alive. Her mother hugged her and would barely let her go, much less out of her sight. Her father grabbed Courtney's shoulders and kissed her on the forehead with passionate force.

Then they sat her down on the couch and quizzed her on her whereabouts, who she was with, and how she felt. As much as how Courtney wanted to blurt out everything that happened with Duncan to her parents, she didn't. Even though Duncan saved her life more than once, her parents probably wouldn't be happy to hear about her life living with gangsters… And the fact that Courtney really, really liked it.

Her story was that she had been knocked out by some poor bum who had robbed her of the apples she bought from Frank Gardetta. She was allegedly passed out for days, and when she finally woke up, she was in the warm house of a lonely, elderly was so grateful towards the lady that Courtney stayed there for a week to aide the crippled old lady with groceries, laundry, and other deeds. However, when Courtney finally left the lady's house, she got lost and couldn't remember where the lady's house was. Fortunately, she wandered back into town and back home.

Courtney's parents believed the story, of course.

The next day, her story was published in the newspaper to cancel Courtney's obituary. People sent food and gift baskets to the Pembrooke apartment out of praising the fact Courtney returned home. Courtney, meanwhile, stayed in her room all day while her parents went back to work and steadily fell back into their old way of life.

Courtney worked on homework, that she still had to catch up on, late into the night. As she felt she could no longer stay awake any more, she placed her textbooks and papers on the desk next to her bed. She grabbed Duncan's carving of a skull and slowly rotated it in her hand, laying back on her plush pillow. There, on the base of the skull, were three symbols. She squinted her eyes to read it in the dim light of the moon shining through her window.

C + D

Courtney eyes relaxed as a lazy smile stretched across her cheeks. Within a few minutes, she was asleep in her bed. Duncan's carved skull was still clutched in her right hand. Her left hand was resting on her cheek, the memory of Duncan's kiss tingling her fingertips.

_

* * *

_

Heartbreak!  
Heart, heart, heartbreak!  
Girl, don't say you love me when you're out the door,  
Woahh, yeah!  
Cause I know things are different than they were before,  
Whoahh, yeah!

Kill me with your kiss,  
It's so hard to resist you,  
When you look me in the eyes tonight,  
And say we're headed for a heart, heart, heartbreak,  
And I don't ever ever wanna hear you say,  
Don't say you love me, don't even,  
Don't say you love me, you're leaving.

Ready for a heart, heart, heartbreak?  
I'm gonna gonna turn around and walk away,  
Don't say you love me, don't even,  
Don't say you love me, you're leaving.

You say we'd stick it out through the thick and thin,  
Woahh, yeah!  
And when the walls came down,  
You wouldn't let me in,  
Woahh, yeah!  
We've been through it all,  
My back's against the wall,  
It's crashing down on me tonight,

Yeah, and we're headed for a heart, heart, heartbreak,  
And I don't ever ever wanna hear you say,  
Don't say you love me, don't even,  
Don't say you love me, you're leaving.

Ready for a heart, heart, heartbreak?  
I'm gonna gonna turn around and walk away,  
Don't say you love me, don't even,  
Don't say you love me, you're leaving.

I'm sick and tired of this whole situation,  
Here comes another fight,  
Beating me down with the same conversation,  
Don't say you love me tonight.

Heartbreak,  
And I'm ready for a heart, heart, heartbreak,  
And I don't ever ever wanna hear you say,  
Don't say you love me, don't even,  
Don't say you love me, you're leaving.

Ready for a heart, heart, heartbreak?  
I'm gonna gonna turn around and walk away,  
Don't say you love me, don't even,  
Don't say you love me, you're leaving.

Ready for a heart, heart, heartbreak?  
And I don't ever ever wanna hear you say,  
Don't say you love me, don't even,  
Don't say you love me, you're leaving.

* * *

(Author's Note: Okay, this was really sad. But don't worry, it'll get better. Trust me. So, has anybody heard the song Heart Heart Heartbreak by Boys Like Girls? It's my total, complete, utterly awesome favorite song EVER! Lol. Idk if that even makes sense, but it's an awesome song! It totally reminded me of this chapter. Read the lyrics below, but it goes much better with the actual music.)


	15. Mirage

**(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to… marylin open 89! Thanks for showing me the song Miss Independent by Neyo. The lyrics are at the end of the chapter for everybody. The lyrics describe Courtney really well.)**

* * *

ONE MONTH A.D. (After Duncan)

Courtney was walking along the snow-covered sidewalk of Chicago. Her genuine fur boots sent out small crunching noises with every step in the packed-down snow. Her fists were shoved in the deep pockets of her new fur coat that her daddy had bought her. The harsh winter wind was blocked by all the people crowded around her on the sidewalk.

They come across an intersection, and look both ways up and down the streets. Chicago looked like a winter wonderland. The streetlights had small piles of snow on top of them and there were a couple carolers about, traveling to various apartment buildings. The sky was gray and green pine wreaths hung from practically every available window. Courtney strides across the street with a mass of people.

She steps over the curb and into a small candy shop that specialized in mints this time of year. The air was warm and immediately melted the snowflakes that had landed on her soft brown hair. Courtney unwraps the scarf from around her neck and hands it to the coatman. Then she unbuttons her fur coat and hands that to him as well. He gently hangs up her belongings and asks, "Merry Christmas, Miss Pembrooke. We're just a few days away from Christmas, aren't we?"

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Charles Baker. I love this time of year," Courtney gushes. She stomps her fur boots on the thick carpet by the door and small chunks of snow fall off. They're reduced to a puddle of water in mere minutes.

"Most definitely. Did you come here for some peppermints, or some homemade gingerbread?" Charles Baker asks, leading her into the quaint candy shop. The store looked more like a small log cabin, even though it was on a busy intersection of Chicago. A roaring fire warmed the whole room from a wall in the back corner. Rows and displays of candy, cookies, and taffy gave the air a light, sugary smell. The floors were a dark hardwood, as well as the walls. A staircase led from behind the counter to upstairs, where Charles Bakers' mother and grandmother baked in a large kitchen.

"Well, I originally came here intent on buying a bag of peppermints, but now that you mention it, some gingerbread sounds pretty appetizing," Courtney replies. Charles Baker nods and he heads behind the candy counter, retrieving a large glass jar of peppermints in various shapes and sizes. He takes a plastic bag and fills it with the mints from a metal scoop until the bag on the scale weighed a half pound. Charles Baker expertly twisted the bag and put a golden bow on it.

"There you go," he says, handing the bag over the counter. His and Courtney's hands brush as they exchange the bag. Ms. Baker chooses that moment to walk down the stairs with a steaming tray of gingerbread. Her mouth opens in disbelief and she sets the tray down on the counter.

As she pulls the cooking mitts off both hands, she exclaims, "Why, Miss Courtney Pembrooke! What a pleasant surprise! Are you here to try some of our famous homemade gingerbread?"

"Yes, of course, Ms. Baker. And I wanted to get a bag of your tasty peppermints," Courtney answers, raising the bag of peppermints in the air a tad for emphasis. Ms. Baker nods in understanding and begins shoveling the gingerbread off the tray with a metal spatula.

"Yes, well, I do so love our peppermints. Here, Charles Baker, why don't you give lovely Miss Pembrooke a free sample of our gingerbread. Right out of the oven!" Ms. Baker tells her son. He takes two pieces of gingerbread and hands one to Courtney. She takes it and takes a dainty bite from the cookie.

"Mmm," she gushes, "I love fresh gingerbread. I'll take a half pound bag of it, please."

Charles Baker nods and gets to work, half of his gingerbread cookie hanging out of his mouth. His mother finally returns upstairs when he hands a full bag of gingerbread to Courtney, with the gold bow. She places the bags on the counter and opens her white clutch purse, revealing a crisp $5 bill.

"Five dollars? Am I correct?"

"Right as always, Miss Pembrooke," replies Charles Baker with a slight smirk. Courtney had been to the candy shop so many times throughout her lifetime that she had memorized the prices. As Charles Baker places the bill in the cash register, Courtney takes her coat and scarf from the coat rack and dresses herself in winter-wear. "Have a nice day."

"You too," Courtney calls over her shoulder. She opens the door, and the golden chimes above her head twinkle in the wind. She clutches her purchases and her purse to her chest and joins the fast-paced crowd on their journey along the sidewalk. The cold air causes her cheeks to flush a bright pink color, and her nose instantly begins running. Sniffling, Courtney walks along until something catches her eye. She takes a look over her shoulder and sees shaggy black hair.

Shaggy black hair.

Shaggy. Black. Hair.

Courtney suddenly stops in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a middle-aged man to side-step around her to avoid collision. He grumbles at her along his way, but she ignores the profanities. She begins shoving her way through the crowd, trying to catch up to the person with the black hair who was trying to walk away.

Her scarf had come loose from it's stylish knot and was just dangling from her neck, and the wind from this direction was probably tying her hair into knots, but she didn't care. Courtney had to catch up to the person with the black hair. The person who had saved her from being run over. The person who was a notorious gangster.

In other words, Duncan.

But when she walked out into the middle of a crosswalk to see him, it wasn't him. Once again, Courtney stops in her tracks. Not Duncan. Not even _close_ to Duncan. The man was a teenage boy, yes, but he was much shorter than Duncan, and he had crooked teeth. The teen looked about ten pounds heavier than Duncan, and his complexion was no where near Duncan's smooth, tan skin.

A car horn beeps, bringing Courtney back out of her reverie. She hops back onto the sidewalk and lets out a heavy sigh. That had been happening to her a lot. As in, so much that it probably wasn't healthy to keep thinking about a boy who so clearly kicked her out of his life. But she couldn't stop thinking about him. It had been a whole month, yet every time she saw a Crest-white smirk or heard a low chuckle, her mind snapped to Duncan.

Could she not forget about him?

Before she knew it, Courtney was in front of her apartment building. She walks up the stairs, into the lobby, up the elevator, and on the penthouse level. She takes the key from her purse and opens her apartment door, stepping into a large kitchen that smelled like sugar cookies. Courtney drops the peppermints and gingerbread on the kitchen counter right before running up to her room.

She closes her bedroom door shut and snaps the lock on the doorknob. She scrambles to unbutton her fur coat and swiftly tears her scarf from her neck. She tosses them on her bed and she sits on the floor, next to her desk. Courtney opens the cabinet underneath her desk and takes out a pencil case. She digs to the bottom and takes out a handkerchief wrapped into a ball. She gently unwraps it and takes out the skull carving.

Courtney clutches it in her hand and lays with her back on the plush carpet, staring at the ceiling. She took out the tiny skull whenever she was really missing Duncan and she couldn't get him out of her mind. Her French-tipped fingernails follow the trail of their initials, carved into the base of the skull.

C + D

_Courtney and Duncan my ass_, she thinks remorsefully. They were never going to see each other again. He didn't want anything to do with her, even though his last words to her were 'I love you'. _Yeah, that's love, all right. Ditching the girl who cares so much about you._ Courtney lets out a sharp sigh, puffing her bangs up into the air. They slowly float back down and land on her forehead.

"Courtney!" her mother calls across the apartment, "Will you get the mail? I forgot to get it when I was running errands earlier."

Courtney shoots up into a sitting position and quickly wraps the skull back into the handkerchief. She buries it in pens and pencils, zips the pencil case shut, and replaces it in the cabinet. She walks out of her room, down the hallway, past the living room, and through the kitchen. "Be right back!" she calls to her mother before slamming the apartment door shut and walking down the hallway.

She gets to the elevator and lets out a groan. An 'Out of Order' sign was crudely taped to the metal doors. _Now I have to walk down about thirty flights of stairs_, she thinks to herself. Courtney shoves the metal bar and opens the heavy metal door into the stairwell. She shivers in the cold, unheated stairwell before placing a foot on the first step.

Just then, two arms roughly grab her around her waist and tug her off the stairs, behind the metal door. A hand clamps over her mouth as Courtney tries to scream. The fingers smelled like cigarettes. A conversation between her and Duncan: '_Whoa, whoa, whoa, sweetheart. Pause. Rewind. Did you say you've never smoked a cig before?_'

A smile breaks out over Courtney's face and she slowly pulls the hand off her mouth, turning around to look at the face of who just lured her into the stairway.

**

* * *

**

**(Author's Note: Cliffhanger! Trust me, you guys won't be able to wait for who is in the stairwell with her. I'm so excited (; But this story is going to end soon, which sucks. It'll end in roughly three or so chapters. And the next chapter will be mainly a filler chapter before the big event and the end, then the END end will be… Well, I'll shut up now. I'm getting WAY too carried off, and I don't want to ruin the surprise.)**

* * *

_Yeah yeah, yeah yeah,  
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah,  
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah._

Ooh it's somethin' about,  
Just somethin' about the way she move.  
I cant figure it out,  
There's somethin about her.

Said, ooh its somethin about  
Kinda woman that want you, but dont need you.  
Hey, I cant figure it out.  
There's something about her.

Cause she walk like a boss,  
Talk like a boss,  
Manicured nails to set the pedicure off.  
She's fly, effortlessly.

And she move like a boss,  
Do what a boss do,  
She got me thinkin' about getting involved.  
That's the kinda girl I need, oh.

She got her own thing,  
That's why i love her,  
Miss Independent.  
Won't you come and spend a little time?

She got her own thing,  
That's why I love her,  
Miss Independent.  
Ooh, the way we shine,  
Miss Independent, yeah.

Yeah yeah, yeah yeah,  
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah,  
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah, oh.

Ooh, there's somethin about  
Kinda woman that can do for herself.  
I look at her and it makes me proud,  
There's somethin about her.

There's somethin' oh-so-sexy about  
Kinda woman that dont even need my help.  
She said she got it, she got it no doubt.  
There's something about her.

Cause she work like a boss, play like a boss.  
Car and a crib, she 'bout to pay 'em both off.  
And her bills are paid on time.

She made for a boss, only a boss.  
Anything less, she tellin' them to get lost.  
That's the girl thats on my mind.

She got her own thing,  
That's why I love her,  
Miss Independent.  
Won't you come and spend a little time?

She got her own thing,  
That's why I love her,  
Miss Independent.  
Ooh, the way we shine,  
Miss Independent, yeah.

Mmm, her favorite thing to say:  
Don't worry, I got it.  
Mmm, and everything she got,  
Best believe she bought it.

Mmm, she gon' steal my heart,  
Ain't no doubt about it.  
Girl, you're everything I need,  
Said you're everything I need.

yeah yeah, yeah, yeah,  
yeah yeah, yeah yeah,  
yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah, oh.

She got her own thing,  
That's why I love her,  
Miss Independent.  
Won't you come and spend a little time?

She got her own thing,  
That's why I love her,  
Miss Independent.  
Ooh, the way we shine,  
Miss Independent, yeah.

Miss Independent,  
That's why I love her.


	16. In the Stairwell

**(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to… MYSIGGY!)**

* * *

Courtney turned around and the smile fell from her face. It wasn't Duncan, like she hoped. It was Damien. But he was still a Log Cabin gangster, which was hope that maybe, just maybe, there would be hopes of her returning to Log Cabin too.

"What are you doing here? And how'd you find out where I live?" Courtney demands. The more she could learn about what Damien was up to, the more she could know about what his best friend, Duncan, was doing also.

"It wasn't hard to find your address. Duncan keeps all his important papers under his mattress," Damien answers. This made Courtney think about what all she was sleeping on when she slept in Duncan's bed. How many 'important' papers were there? What papers were appropriately deemed 'important' by a gangster? And just how much information did Duncan know?

"You still didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?" she repeats, crossing her arms, partially to look in control and partially to try to warm her goosebump-covered skin.

They were still standing in the dark corner of the stairwell, at the very top. If you leaned over the freezing railing, you could see thirty flights of stairs winding downdowndown. There were a few uncovered light bulbs lining the walls, but they had never been renovated after the invention of the elevator. Dark patches of wetness seeped down from the roof, staining the concrete walls a greenish color. The smell of mold was so thick in some areas of the stairwell that you could practically taste it.

"I… had to tell you something," he admits, shuffling his feet but maintaining eye contact. "Just don't tell Duncan," he adds in a rush.

Courtney almost rolled her eyes, but decided not to. Instead, she holds her arms out and motions at the damp stairwell. "Would I be here if I could be with Duncan? Besides, he wants nothing to do with me," she points out.

This time it was Damien's turn to scoff and roll his eyes. "Doubt it," he tells her, "In fact, Duncan has been doing literally nothing the past month. He's been holed up in his room. He even eats his meals in there, if he's been eating at all."

"Doubt it," Courtney retorts, though she felt a pang of remorse in her chest. "Duncan's the president of your alcohol-smuggling business thing. He has tons to do. Why would he waste time in his room thinking of me? …If I'm what he's been thinking about."

"Beats me," Damien replies, shrugging his shoulders almost to his ears. "Probably he isn't worrying about it because there are hardly any Racketeers left from the fight. There's no competition. Also, we're stocking up half our supplies for the big load of alcohol for the holiday season. But he's, like, not the old Duncan anymore."

"So, what? You came here to make me feel guilty for him ditching me?"

"What? No! I came here to make you a deal."

"And the deal is…?"

"Check this out," Damien proposes. He heads to the very corner of the stairwell and lifts a shiny, rectangular, pristine white box off the filthy floor. He lifts the lid, tosses some tissue paper aside, and shows Courtney the most gorgeous dress she has ever seen in her lifetime of extreme wealth.

"Oh. My. God," she breathes, her eyes hungrily scanning the silk, straps, and shiny material. "May I?"

Damien nods, and Courtney's hands practically dive into the box. They lift the dress from it's tiny container and it unfolds right in front of her. "Duncan thinks you look good in red." The thin straps seemed incapable of holding so many ruffles, folds, and fabric. The red dress was a deep V-neck, scooping down to the very bottom of the bust line. The bust looked like the fabric would be stretched taut once something filled it out. A thick ribbon gathered at the waist, pulling all the material in. A large bow was gathered at the left hip. Below the waist, high-sheen red fabric cascaded down in waves until it suddenly stopped.

"Now I'm guessing this dress isn't for you, so… what's the catch?" Courtney asks.

"No catch, just… meet at the Day n' Night speakeasy tomorrow night. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, anyway. Duncan will be there, shipping a huge load of alcohol there for the party," Damien explains.

"Wait… Duncan will be there? I don't know if I can do this. He broke up with me, remember? He'd probably hate to see me there." Even though her heart nearly broke in half saying this, it was true. Duncan had ditched her. Why would he want to see her begging for him to take him back, on a night when he was just planning to party and forget about all his problems, no less?

"Courtney, I have been Duncan's best friends since… since preschool. I know how he thinks. And once he sees you in that dress…"

"He's going to go crazy. I'm not supposed to be there. That's his part of town. I'd feel too out of place. And I doubt he wants me there with him."

"Just trust me on this. Wouldn't you like to see him one last time, if you never see him again for the rest of your entire life? Go out with a blaze of glory, Courtney," Damien tries to persuade her. He takes the straps of the dress by his fingers and swings it back and forth. He raises his voice a few octaves and sings, "You know you want toooo!"

Courtney smiles wearily and takes the dress back, gently folding it up into the box. "I do want to see him…," she admits, a slow blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Then come to the party!" Damien exclaims. Courtney gnaws on her bottom lip with her straight teeth, rolling the idea around in her head. She wanted to see Duncan, but if she wasn't one hundred percent sure he wanted to see her back, what was the point?

"I'll think about it…," she answers slowly. Damien nods and hands her the box with the red dress in it.

"Okay. But keep this dress in case you change your mind about going. And if you end up not going…," Damien shrugs his shoulders, "Then you can just keep it anyways."

Before Courtney had a chance to reply, Damien had slid past her, back into the warm, lighted area of her hallway. Courtney stood, propping the metal door open with her hip, so she could watch Damien's exit. He rips the 'Out of Order' sign off the door, pressed the down button, and walked into the elevator.

"You put up that sign?" Courtney asks just before the elevator doors slide shut.

Damien winks at her.

**

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**

(Author's Note: This was a kinda short filler chapter. So, anyway, for Courtney's dress, take this dress as an example: http://www(dot)polypore(dot)com/cgi/img-thing?(dot)out=jpg&size=l&tid=6817225 but imagine it with a V-neck and really thin straps. When pasting in the web address, put a period where I put (dot). So… yeah. Thanks for all the reviews!)


	17. Day N' Night

**(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to… STARLIGHTX7!)**

* * *

It was Christmas Eve.

Courtney stood in front of her mirror, holding the dress in front of herself, debating on whether to go to the Day N' Night speakeasy tonight or not. She utterly, truly wanted Duncan to be able to see her in this dazzling dress, but did he even love her anymore?

_C + D_

_C + D _

_C + D_, her brain repeated over and over.

But Duncan left her! That was the one major fact that could change anything. _He told me he loved me_,she thinks, _But he left you. _She wondered where he was right now. _He carved our initials on a skull_, she thinks, _But he left you._ She wondered what he was thinking at that very moment. _He kissed me_, she thinks, _But he left you._

Did he really not care about her anymore?

Was she just another girl to make out with?

_I bet he's with another girl right now_, Courtney thinks grimly. Then, she straightens her back and squares her shoulders. _Well then, he deserves a piece of my mind._

She carefully lays her red dress of her bed as she begins stripping down into her underwear and bra. Courtney rifles through her dresser drawer and selects a strapless bra and swaps it with the one she was wearing. She selects a high pair of sleek, red high heels from her vast collection of shoes from her closet. The heels boosted her short height at least three more inches.

Courtney takes the dress and slips it over her head. The fabric easily glides over her smooth skin and falls perfectly into place. Her bust generously fills in the V-neck of her dress, and the ribbon at the waist pulls her in tightly, creating curves in all the right places. The large bow tickles her wrist when her arm accidentally brushes against it.

She straps up her strappy heels, and examines her legs in the mirror. Almost all of her legs were revealed, since the fabric from her dress stopped just below her butt. There were no need for tights, since her legs were already tan enough. Her usually short legs looked longer in the teeteringly high heels.

Courtney headed into her own bathroom and applied some black liquid eyeliner to her top and bottom eyelids. She put some smoky black eye shadow on her top lid, heavy near the eyeball and lighter near the eyebrows. She finished her eyes with some black mascara, making her full eyelashes seem thicker. Courtney, not one for lots of makeup besides eye makeup, glides some minty-red lip gloss over her lips and leaves the bathroom. On a sudden urge, Courtney takes a brush and lightly brushes golden body glitter over her thighs and collarbones. She leaves her bathroom, and since it didn't seem safe to carry a purse downtown, Courtney just stuffs a ten dollar bill into her cleavage.

After one more look in the full-length mirror, Courtney smirks to herself and thinks, _Time to break some hearts._

Courtney takes her fur coat and buttons it up as she walks into the kitchen. "Hey, mom? I'm going to a party with some friends!" Courtney calls out. She pauses with her hand on the doorknob as she waits for her mom to answer her back.

"Okay, honey!" her mother calls back. Courtney smiles to herself as she walks out of her apartment door and into the hallway. She rides down to the lobby in the elevator, and slides through the revolving door to the wintry outside world. Her teeth immediately begin chattering in her short dress.

Courtney walks to the curb, raises one hand, and lets out a shrill whistle. A taxi pulls up beside her, and she climbs in. "To, um, just downtown is fine," she tells the taxi driver. It wasn't probably best to tell him she was going to a speakeasy.

The ride takes around forty minutes, because of all the traffic. It seemed like everybody in Chicago was going to a Christmas Eve party. Finally, the driver creeps along the practically empty streets of downtown Chicago. He turns around to face Courtney once he reaches a red light. "Now where do you want me to go?" he asks in a gravelly voice.

Courtney surreptitiously leans her back against her seat, trying to put as much space between her and the creepy taxi driver as she could. "Uhh…," she mumbles, looking out the windshield to hopefully help her think of where a speakeasy could possibly be hidden. Just then, a car zooms in front of them, turning sharply into a small alley. She lets out a sigh of relief. "Follow that car!"

The taxi driver turns around just as the light turns green, and he obediently begins following after the car. As Courtney squinted, she could just barely make out the telltale signs of an illegal racecar. She got chills knowing that the car belonged to a gangster, probably a Log Cabin gangster, at that. But the car easily drives faster than them, making a getaway. The car turns into another alley, and about a block away from the alley, Courtney takes out the ten dollar bill.

"Okay, you can stop here," she says. The taxi pulls to a slow stop, and she asks, "How much will this cost me?"

"Well, since I had to drive to far away from town, where I probably won't get another customer on my way back, the ride'll cost ya double. So that'll be… ah… $9.50," the taxi driver says finally, after taking a while to double the cost in his head. Courtney hands the bill over to him, and cracks open the door of the car, placing a high heel into the snow drift on the side of the road.

"Keep the change," she tells him, not caring for two quarters. The rest of her climbs out into the sharp wind, and she slams the door shut. Courtney quickly hops onto the sidewalk as the taxi squeals away. As she walks towards the alley, the heels of her high heels leave small holes in the snow. The freezing wind blows snowflakes into her face, and her legs turn numb.

Courtney rounds the corner into the alley, and most of the wind is blocked by the tall buildings on both sides of her. Somewhere, music is playing loud. So loud, that Courtney could feel it in her chest. She looks around, eyes open and alert for something that would look like a speakeasy. Finally, she begins to be able to make out the lyrics to the song playing, _Day n' night… I toss and turn, I keep stressin' my mind, mind. I look for peace, but see I don't attain. When I need for keeps, this silly game we play, play._

Courtney shivers, but this time, not from the wind. The name of the song was Day N' Night by Kid Cudi. Surely the Day N' Night speakeasy would be close, unless the song was a complete coincidence. Besides, Courtney wasn't sure if her legs could walk any longer in this kind of weather without getting frostbitten.

Suddenly, the music starts getting softer. Courtney slows her pace, and turns her head. Yes, the music seemed louder a little ways behind her. She retraces her steps and find that the music was coming from behind a thick metal door. She nervously lifts a shaking fist towards the door and raps her knuckles against it. She returns her fist to her fur coat pocket, and waits. The door cracks open, and a large, bald guy strides out.

He looked like a bodyguard, from his thin sunglasses wrapped around his thick face. His arms were crossed, and Courtney couldn't help but notice his muscular arms were wider than her waist. He was wearing a huge black T-shirt, but he didn't shiver in the chilly air. Baggy, ripped jeans covered his legs, and a few silver chains hung in loops from his pockets, weighing his pants down to reveal navy plaid boxers.

"Can I help you?" he asks in such a deep voice, Courtney could practically feel it in her chest, with the music.

"Um… yeah, is this the Day N' Night speakeasy?" she stutters. He seemed like the kind of guy who would go to a speakeasy, or at least know where one is.

"Depends on whose asking," he rumbles. Courtney opens her mouth, but doesn't know what to say. The huge bodybuilder juts his chin at her and continues, "What're you wearing under the coat?"

Courtney's fingers fumble to unbutton her fur coat. Instead of getting frustrated, the man just keeps glaring at her, which makes her nervous fingers shake worse. At last, she opens her coat and shows him her dress. His eyes travel along her body, eyes lingering on her low neckline and exposed legs. He nods, and opens the door to her. "You're in."

Courtney sighs gratefully, and walks in. She was hit by a wave of heat and the smell of liquor and smoke. The vast room was dim, but a few strobe lights, searchlights, and bare lightbulbs hung from the ceiling. The walls were completely concrete, and a few table with stools were shoved against the walls to make room for the huge dance floor. The dance floor was just hardwood floors in front of a large DJ table and massive speakers. Dozens of girls wore short dresses like her, and were grinding on their friends or boyfriends to the thumping bass.

To the right, a bar had several bartenders serving up various forms of liquor. Only a few stools were pushed up against the bar counter. Instead, customers just told the bartender their order and were served almost immediately by the expert staff. The customers went off to dance with their drinks, most of it spilling onto the floor. It seemed as if only the most attractive customers got served in time.

Somebody put their hand on Courtney's shoulder, and she turns around to see Damien in his usual Log Cabin attire: a white cotton shirt (rolled up to the elbows, of course) and black dress pants. "Damien! Oh my gosh, I was beginning to get so nervous about not being able to find you!" Courtney exclaims.

Damien smirks and holds a hand out, "I could take your coat. It's a bit warm in here to be wearing it, don't cha think?"

Courtney smiles gratefully and takes off her coat. Damien takes it and tosses it over his shoulder, but still holds onto the collar of her coat, practically like a male model. He leans closer to whisper, "Hey… I last saw Duncan at the bar carrying a crate of vodka. Might want to go over there and see. Also, everything over there at the bar, except margaritas, are free. It's an awesome deal."

Giddy to see Duncan again, Courtney laughs. "Okay. Thanks so much, Damien," she tells him. Her knees turn to jello just thinking that Duncan could be in the same room as her.

"No problem. I'll put your coat in that stock room over there. Now go find your knight in shining armor, Princess," Damien teases, winking at her and slipping into the crowd. Courtney immediately loses sight of Damien, not knowing where her fur coat went. She shakes it off, and walks over to the bar.

She slips through the crowd of sweaty, drunk, and horny people until she reaches the bar counter. A bartender catches her eye and begins to walk over to her when teal eyes suddenly pop up. Courtney blinks in surprise, not able to breathe. Duncan had been crouching behind the counter, putting some vodka bottles into the storage cabinet. He had been completely invisible to the outside of the bar, until he stood up, that is.

They look at each other for a few moments, until Courtney opens her mouth to speak. That seemed to do the trick, breaking Duncan out of his hypnosis. He took off, slipping through the crowd until she could no longer see him. A wooden door opened at shut, revealing a sliver of cardboard boxes. That could only be the stock room.

The bartender walks over to Courtney, flashing his perfect smile. "Can I get you something?" he asks, eyes gazing at her up and down. "_Any_thing?"

But Courtney just shakes her head, pushing herself away from the bar. _Of course Duncan didn't want to see you_, she inwardly scolds herself, _He practically broke up with you when he left you. __**What**__ ever gave you the idea that he might actually be __**glad**__ to see his ex?_

When the big bodybuilder sees her coming towards the door, he opens it for her. "Leaving so soon?" he rumbles, but Courtney doesn't answer. She just keeps walking, out into the snow, with no money for a ride home.

**

* * *

**

(Author's Note: TINGLES! _TINGLES_! I'm getting TINGLES writing this next chapter! Lmao. God, I feel so hyper tonight. I have no idea why. Maybe I'm high off Starbucks caffeine. Oh well. The good thing is is that my fingers are typing at lightning speed! Zoom! Haha XD Anywaysies, the next chapter should be up sometimes tomorrow, or, at best, tonight. Although I severely doubt that. Happy Turkey Day, everyone! Err... Americans! Comment if you're Canadian, since idk if Canadians read FanFiction or not. I'm an idiot. Lol.)


	18. Return to Log Cabin

**(Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to… TRENTXGWEN-HEART- for the idea she gave me (; Thanks!)**

**

* * *

**

Duncan walked into the stock room, slamming the wooden door behind him. Damien hopped off the wooden crate he had been sitting on and tosses down the newspaper he had been reading. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Duncan murmurs, running both hands though his hair.

"Dude, what's the matter?" Damien asks.

Duncan holds his hands out to his sides, palms up, eyes wide. "It's Courtney, man! How the hell did she even find Day N' Night?" he exclaims. He resumes pacing the stock room and cursing every now and then.

"Did you not want to see her?" Damien asks. "Because, Duncan, man, I kinda thought you loved her."

"I _did_! I mean… I _do_! That's why I had to leave her. Don't you understand that? I was trying to protect her," Duncan admits, "Now don't you see how messed up this is? She shouldn't be here!"

"…I don't see how this is all such a big problem," Damien answers, shrugging. Duncan just looks at his best friend, then suddenly his shoulders sag and his head tilts.

"_Duuude_…," Duncan says tiredly, disbelieving, "_You_ didn't tell Courtney to come here, did you?"

Damien sucks air through his teeth, caught. Finally, Duncan sees Courtney's fur coat on the crate behind Damien, who tries to kick the coat out of view. "You did _not_ fucking tell Courtney to come here!" Duncan shouts, but this time it wasn't a question. "I can't believe you, Damien! Out of _all_ the _people_!"

Damien stood there, letting Duncan yell at him.

"Do you _not know _how much _danger_ you put Courtney back in?! I'm a fucking gangster! I can't live a normal life with a normal girl and expect everything to be okay! _SHIT_! You're such a bastard, Damien! I thought we were _friends_," Duncan hisses, shoving Damien in the chest.

This snapped Damien out of his paralysis. "You know what, Duncan?" Damien yells back, poking Duncan harshly in the chest. "_You_ think you know everything! _You_ think you're _protecting_ her! Well, maybe that's true in one sense. But not the other." Damien's voice had grown to a harsh whisper.

"Do you know how much you've been _hurting _her, Duncan? _Do_ you?! No. You don't. Because all you did was bring her back to her home and try to go on like life was before. I followed her around town, being sure she was getting along fine without you. And you know what? She _wasn't_. Duncan, she fucking cries herself to sleep _every night_. She looks at that skull you carved her every time she's in her room. She chases down random people with black hair, thinking it's you. She tries to act like it's okay, but it's not. When I caught up to her in her apartment building to tell her to try to meet you here, she was so happy at first, because she thought I was you. You protected her from maybe getting killed, yes, but you broke her heart," Damien finishes.

Duncan stares at Damien, not believing what his best friend just told him.

Suddenly, Duncan spins around and punches his fist through a crate, piled high on a shelf. The wood splinters, cracking open. His fist plows through a bottle of whiskey, glass cracking too. He pulls his hand out, and whiskey dribbles out onto the floor. "Fuck! I'm such an idiot! I'm such a motherfucking asshole who doesn't even deserve… ugh! _God_, I'm retarded!" Duncan shouts. He kicks a barrel of wine, while goes careening across the floor and smashes into the wall, wine spilling everywhere.

Duncan roughly grabs Damien's shoulders, looking his friend straight in the eye. "Where'd Courtney go?! Where is she?! I gotta… I gotta… Where?!" Duncan demands, teal eyes gone crazy. His pupils were dilated, and Duncan's heart was racing.

"I have no idea. She might have left, or she might be getting drunk… I have no idea," Damien admits, a little freaked by Duncan's urgency.

Duncan sprints out the stock room door, slipping through the crowd until he gets to the bodyguard at the door. "Brock! Did a really sexy brunette in a short red dress just leave?" Duncan asks.

"Yeah, Duncan, man. She just left about five minutes ago," he answers. Duncan shoves the metal door open, out into the snow. He sprints down the alley, desperate to find her.

* * *

Courtney was shivering, walking down the sidewalk in a strange part of town. _I'm so retarded_, she thinks to herself, _How could I have ever thought this would have been a good idea?! I have __no__ coat in freaking __December!_ She had settled for shoving her fists into the ruffles of the bow at her waist to keep her fingers from falling off.

Sadly, she couldn't say the same for her legs. They had gone numb a long while ago. Her toes were cramped in the ridiculously high heels she had worn, and she was _definitely_ not taking them off. So she was stuck to suffer. Courtney had even debated on whether or not to sit on the front porch of an apartment building, but all of them looked creepy and dangerous.

Her only hope was to walk on and hopefully find a taxi. But like the taxi driver had said, hardly anybody wanted a ride downtown. Maybe, if she was really desperate, Courtney would flash her legs or her boobs, if only to get a free ride. Courtney shuddered at this idea, and was taken over by another round of shivering.

By now, her jaw was hurting. She was long past teeth-chattering, and well into lockjaw. Her teeth her clamped together so hard she was sure her teeth would shatter, and the shards would pierce her gums. Her jaw was so sore, but she couldn't loosen it up.

Courtney swore that if she couldn't find help, or warmth, soon, she would climb up a fire escape and commit suicide right then and there.

It would at least be a faster way to go than freezing to death, or being raped by some perverted hobo.

"Courtney!"

She froze at the sound of her name. Courtney turned around just in time to see Duncan grab her shoulders and pull her into his chest. She was so startled, that all she did was huddle in his strong arms as he hugged her and breathe in his familiar smell: cologne, cedar, and… Duncan.

"God, Courtney, I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot. I love you so much, and I didn't mean… I mean, all I was trying to do was… God, I'm just so sorry, Courtney. I'm a complete fuck-up," Duncan apologizes profusely.

Courtney shifts in his arms, trying to huddle as much of her body as she can into his warm hug. "You're not a fuck-up," she mumbles into his shirt.

"Come on, you're shaking. Log Cabin isn't far from here," he tells her, pulling out of the hug. Duncan takes off his black leather jacket and holds it out for her. Courtney, not able to resist the body heat, slides her arms into his jacket sleeves. The sleeves are so long that they cover her hands, which was perfectly fine by her. Duncan leads her one block down the street and around the corner, to Log Cabin, his arm around her all the way there.

Courtney was shocked Log Cabin had been so close. She could have found shelter there. That is, if they let her in.

Duncan unlocked the front door, and Courtney stumbled into the warm apartment, glad for heat. He closed the door behind them and they walked up to Duncan's room, where Courtney collapsed onto Duncan's bed. She may have been mad at him for walking away from her, but right now, all she cared about was gaining back some body heat and some feeling back in her legs. Duncan digs some quilts out from underneath the bed and lays them on top of Courtney, too.

Her cheeks begin to turn red from the heat, so Duncan knows she's finally thawing. Courtney pats the space on the mattress right next to her, and Duncan carefully sits down next to her, leaning against the headboard. "We have to talk," Courtney tells him. Duncan nods, so she continues, "Why did you _leave_ me when you told me you loved me?"

Her voice cracked on 'leave', which she hated.

Duncan started stroking her hair as he debated on what to say. "I _do_ love you. I left you because… because I wanted you to be safe. It was too dangerous bringing you on all those bank robberies and rum-running and drug dealing. I jeopardized your life, and I didn't want that again," he admits.

"But wouldn't a Racketeer come after me anyway if they saw me on the streets? They'd recognize me and see that you weren't with me," Courtney points out.

Duncan sighs. "I know. But I thought that, maybe, if you weren't with me, there would be no way for you to be dragged into any of this."

Courtney looks up at him, but he avoids eye contact with her. Instead, he stares out the window at the street below. Courtney takes an arm out of her warm cocoon of blankets and takes Duncan's jaw in her hand. She turns his head so he'd be looking her in the eyes, and Courtney whispers, "I'd rather risk my life everyday to be with you."

Courtney drops her hand back under the covers and waits for Duncan's reply. "I love you, Princess," he murmurs.

"I love you, too," she whispers just before Duncan presses his lips against hers. Duncan cradles her head in his hands, his fingers curled up in her hair. Courtney scoots closer to him, pressing their bodies together.

* * *

_Your lips tremble, but your eyes are in a straight stare.  
We're on the bed, but your clothes are laying right there.  
And I was thinking of places that I could hide,  
So now you falling in love._

~ Shake It by Metrostation

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_This is what I wanna do.  
Let's have some fun,  
One on one, just me and you.  
Boom, boom, boom, boom!  
I want you in my room.  
Let's spend the night together,  
From now until forever!__  
Boom, boom, boom, boom!_

~ Boom Boom Boom Boom by Venga Boys

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_The steps that I retrace,  
The sad look on your face,  
Did you hear,  
He fucked her?_

~ Dammit by Blink 182

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_She's amazing, the fire blazing,  
Hotter than cajun.  
Girl, won't you move a 'lil closer?  
Time to get paid, it's maximum wage.  
That body belong on a poster.  
I'm in a daze, that bottom is wavin' at me,  
Like, dammit, I know you._

~ Right Round by Flo Rida

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**(Author's Note: Hopefully you guys could tell what they did in Duncan's room by all the song quotes ;) Lol. But the next chapter will probably be the very last chapter of this story :( Sad day. I'm probably not going to do a sequel to this story, but maybe a sort of spin-off series about them in the Middle Ages. What do you guys think? Comment yes or no for DxC in the Middle Ages.)**


	19. One Year Later

**(Author's Note: Dedicated to… EVERYBODY WHO HAS COMMENTED on this story so far! Lol, cheesy, I know, but everybody needs a chance.)**

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One year later…

Courtney leaps across the alley, rolling on her shoulder and kneeling behind a dumpster. The sound of bullets rattle though the air, and they clink-clank on the metal dumpster. She peeks around the corner, small pistol at the ready. Her diamond engagement ring glitters in the sun. She shoots at a Racketeer, who was also peeking around the corner of a trashcan. He crumples into a pile and blood spills in a ruby puddle around his body.

She smirks to herself and sprints from behind the dumpster. As Courtney dashes through the alley, a sleek convertible Rolls Royce racecar pulls up at the curb, stalling the engine. She puts a tan, agile hand on the door of the car and hops over it, though the open roof and into the passenger seat.

Courtney turns to face the driver, who stomps on the gas pedal and they zoom off. The driver was her boyfriend, her fiancé, the love of her life, and the guy who had taken her virginity. Duncan. He smirks at her and returns his teal eyes to the road.

"Did you get the money?"

They were just back from a bank robbery, but, to Courtney's disappointment, she hadn't been able to take any money. "No! That asshole of a bank clerk had to put a freaking dye bomb in it, so all the cash was stained red," Courtney grumbles, digging though the glove compartment. She grabbed a cigarette, held it between her lips, blocked the wind with a cupped hand, and expertly lit the cigarette with a lighter.

She lets out a puff of smoke, which is immediately blown away from the wind in the convertible. She holds the cigarette between two fingers as she combs her hair with the fingers of her other hand. Duncan had taught her to smoke about a little less than a year ago. While she was learning, she had accidentally burnt his finger while she was trying to learn to use a lighter. He still had a scar on the knuckle of his thumb. Now even today, Courtney didn't much care for the taste of a cigarette, and she only smoked when she felt pissed off or was drunk.

Duncan parks the car in the alley behind Log Cabin, and they climb out of the car. Courtney flicks the cigarette butt into the gutter. It was best to not be roaming the streets when the cops were coming at any second. As they quickly walk up the stairs, Duncan puts his hand on Courtney's lower back, and they walk into the apartment. They walk up a flight of stairs and into the living room, where the majority of the Log Cabin gangsters were waiting.

Duncan takes a seat on a ratty couch and pulls Courtney into his lap. The short skirt she was wearing rode up when she sat down, but Duncan clearly didn't care, due to the pressure on the zipper of his ripped jeans. "Well… we didn't get the money, you guys," Duncan announces. Courtney rests her head on his chest and smiles at Damien, who was sitting across the room. He grins back and winks at her.

Damien and Courtney had gotten even closer during her stay at Log Cabin. They were best friends, and talked about everything together. In fact, Damien was the one who went around and told the other gangsters that Duncan and Courtney were officially dating again. The gangsters stopped using her as a guinea pig for their pick-up lines.

Parties still happened at Log Cabin every weekend. Flappers were still invited for the enjoyment of the other gangsters, but Duncan never left Courtney's side. Usually they would go off and make out, or maybe even have sex. During one of the parties, Duncan even taught her how to play strip poker. He won the first dozen rounds, of course, but Courtney was a quick learner. Their games were often dramatic.

Also, Duncan proposed to her a few months ago. It was in the evening, around the time of sunset, but you couldn't tell because the sky was gray and a storm was moving in. They were walking home from dinner, and Duncan led her on a different route home than usual. She had asked him where they were going, but he didn't answer. He just smirked. Once they got to a street corner, Duncan got down on one knee and proposed… right in the spot where they first met.

She had taken all of her belongings out of her parents' house once she turned eighteen, even though she was practically living at Log Cabin up until then. Duncan cleared out the room where Courtney had her extreme whiskey break-down about Mary. He filled the room with her stuff, even her bed. They never used her bed, though, because she slept in Duncan's bed anyway. His bed was also a lot wider, which was helpful for… specific purposes.

But speaking of Mary, Courtney actually found the slutty prostitute at a random speakeasy that she and Duncan were rum-running to. All Courtney's old anger had bubbled up inside her, and a cat-fight broke out in the middle of the dance floor. Mary lost, of course, since she was practically wasted by the time Courtney showed up. Mary was lucky that Courtney's gun was out of ammunition. Duncan had to pull the girls apart, and he dragged Courtney into the backseat of the Rolls Royce, where they preceded to make out. According to Duncan, cat-fights were hot and they 'turned him on.'

Suddenly, Courtney felt soft kisses being trailed up and down her jaw. She opens her eyes to see Duncan's teal eyes right in front of hers. She grins sleepily and he smirks in return. "You kinda fell asleep in the middle of our meeting," Duncan informs her.

"_Shit_!" Courtney hisses, sitting up quickly. Her vision blurred as spots covered her line of sight because of light-headedness. Finally, the spots clear and she notices that the room was completely empty of the gangsters. Robbing banks really drained the energy out of her.

"I need a drink," she excuses herself, standing up from the couch. Duncan stares at her underwear under her skirt as she stands up, but Courtney yanks down her skirt while walking to the kitchen. She fills a small flute with bubbly champagne and leans her elbows on the kitchen counter while she drinks it.

Duncan stands up from the couch and walks into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around her waist and stoops his height a little so he could put his chin on her shoulder. Courtney tilts her head back and gives him a peck on his cheek. Then she hiccups, which causes her to go into a fit of giggles. Duncan smirks and pulls her closer to him, feeling her shake with laughter. Courtney was getting better at holding her liquor, but champagne got her feeling silly every time.

"I love you, babe," he murmurs in her ear.

"Love you, too, Duncan," Courtney replies giddily. He scoops her up in his arms and she wraps her legs around his hips, still holding onto her champagne flute. Duncan keeps his hands on her ass as he carries her up the stairs to his room, Courtney kissing his neck all the way.

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_S-C-A-N-D to the A to the L-O-U-S!  
Can't handle it, can't handle it,  
Damn, that girl, she's scandalous.  
But when you open up to talk,  
I can feel I'm going soft.  
Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh!  
No good,  
You're up to no good,  
But, damn, you look good and I'm drunk.  
Now you got me thinking, like, maybe I would.  
So hard to be good,  
It's so hard to be good._

~ Scandalous by Cobra Starship

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**(Author's Note: The end! I'm pretty sad about that, since I loved writing about Duncan as a gangster. And hopefully everybody liked seeing Courtney after she's been living with Duncan for a while and how he's corrupted her. I'm so excited to get started on the couple in medieval times! Not as excited as during the Roaring 20's… but oh well. I need to write SOMETHING to continue their relationship after TDA fucked it all up. So stay tuned for the new story... really, really soon. Lol. And, sorry to those of you who have been reading Total Drama Couple 2. It's been put on pause. Not permanent pause, but pretty close, since I have literally no idea what to write about. I'll probably start it up again once TDA has been over for a while… and after I've had time to stop seething about how they completely ruined Courtney and Duncan's relationship. So on that note, lol, THANKS FOR READING!)**


	20. AN: Next Story!

**(Author's Note: I'm writing a new story, you guys! Well, not just YET, since I still have to finish Princess Turns Peasant first. Anyway, I want YOU guys to choose which story I write next. I'll write them all eventually, but I want to write the one that sounds more interesting to you. There are five choices: **

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1) During the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Courtney is an Indian in the Algonquian tribe, and she discovers a group of white people. Duncan is one of Lewis and Clark's employees, who helps them carry supplies. They meet in the forest, and he can't stop teasing the stubborn Native American. Will Courtney leave her home to travel the country with Duncan?

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2) On Alcatraz Island. Courtney is a tough, beautiful prison guard. Duncan gets arrested and sent to Alcatraz. During a series of very unfortunate events, Courtney begins to wonder if she's falling for the mastermind criminal. Duncan tries to convince her to get her to escape the island with him. Will Courtney agree to escape the island in a dangerous hand-made boat?

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**3) During the Civil War. Duncan is a Confederate soldier for the South, basically only because he enjoys being a rebel. Courtney is a spy for the North, and is captured by the Confederates. Duncan starts flirt with the prisoner of war, who is intent on ignoring him. Will he help her escape the prison camp, or will Courtney be executed for spying?**

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**4) In the wild, Wild West. Courtney works at a saloon, working as a bartender and a dancer. Duncan, a cowboy, comes into town to work as a gold miner. He strikes gold, and soon a rival cowboy comes into town to take away Duncan's newfound riches. Will Courtney try to stop the shoot-out at noon, or will she fail, and will Duncan even survive until the next day?**

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5) During the 1960's. Duncan, a rebel teen, sees Courtney, a notorious good girl, walking down the street. He invites her to Woodstock, a four-day concert with non-stop music. Duncan was determined to turn this good girl into a bad-girl-rebel, and since Courtney was mad at her parents, she agrees. Will Duncan's mission succeed?

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**6) In a pirate ship. Duncan is a wayward and violent pirate, sailing the open seas with his muscular crew. His ship docks at a pier in London, and the pirates go rob a bank. On their way from escaping back to the ship, a rich girl accidentally gets in their way. Her name is Courtney, and she's from a long line of powerful business men. Duncan kidnaps her hopefully for some ransom, but as time goes on, Duncan realizes he doesn't _want _her to leave him.**

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Vote for which theme you'd like me to write about next! The poll is on my profile, and you'll have to vote there. If you leave a vote in a review, it will NOT count. Sorry. The poll should be up soon!)


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